


All That Was Lost

by Jadis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU after 3b, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Danny Mahealani is Part of the Pack, Doctor Who References, Fix-It, Harry Potter References, M/M, Magic!Stiles, My First Work in This Fandom, Oblivious Stiles, POV Alternating, Rimming, SG1 references, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sherlock (TV) References, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, The Hale House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 75,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadis/pseuds/Jadis
Summary: After college, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills and finally acknowledges his magical ability.  While he’s embracing something he’s long ignored, other factors are moving that seem to promise a future that is fabulous beyond-belief.  But there is always a price tag for the universe’s ‘goodwill.’  Will the pack be willing to pay it?Basically, this is my fix it.   Very little in canon after Season 3B happened in this ‘verse.  Though you will find some themes and people did trip into my world.Obviously, I own nothing.  Except for all the errors.  It is unbeta'ed.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles felt the tug of the wards on the thin lines of the tattoo on chest. Turning away from the bestiary on the coffee table, he opened his mouth to call for Derek when his phone rang. Accepting the call, “Yo Scotty, I got it.”

“Can you guys head out? We’re in the middle of setting a leg on Mrs. Henderson’s Collie.”

“Buster?” 

“Focus, Stiles.” Derek appeared on the stairs, pulling on a maroon Henley. He’d just finished his thousandth push up and then showered, no doubt.

“We’re on our way,” Stiles said into the phone while rolling his eyes at Derek. “Seriously, dude?” He walked to the kitchen, his favorite coffee mug in hand. 

Derek playfully hip chucked Stiles. “Don’t call me –”

“Watch it,” Stiles said, carefully placing the chunky red mug in the stainless-steel farm sink. “Besides: you know you love it.”

Stiles jumped out of the way, headed back to the couch as Derek took a friendly swipe at him. He chuckled to himself as he tidied up his workspace on the couch and coffee table. After stacking the bestiaries, he took note of the application for law enforcement academy beneath the bottom book. He needed to get on that, the next class began in February. His dad said he might hire him, but there was no way he would ever be paired with Derek or Parrish. Too bad, that woulda been fun. 

Derek had joined up during Stiles’ sophomore year in college. Stiles knew his dad had been after Derek to join the department ever since the Sheriff had understood just how much supernatural crap was happening in Beacon Hills. 

“Ready?” Derek picked up his keys from the table by his door. Stiles grabbed a jacket and checked he had his phone.

Within moments they were in Derek’s mom-o-bile, headed to the preserve. Stiles tattoo tingled again, and in the fading daylight, he thought he saw it glow under his threadbare Captain America T-shirt. “Uh, Derek –”

Derek’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I felt it.” He punched the accelerator. “Glowing, huh? Great.”

After returning from GWU, Stiles and Deaton tied the wards surrounding the Hale Property, and the Nematon to him, Derek and Scott via tattoos. The intricate magic needed, that Stiles was profoundly involved in creating, finally made him accept he too was supernatural. There had been signs of his ability in high school, but Stiles was nothing if not a master at denial.

Derek and Scott were able to tie the wards to their respective existing tattoos. But Stiles had to finally go under the needle. 

Deaton and Derek flew in a powerful druid tattoo artist from Seattle who created the subtle Celtic triskelia, about 1/3 the size of Derek’s. Stiles decided to use white ink, symbolic of his intent to use his magic for good. The tattoo was just below his collarbone, so he could see it in the mirror if he needed to make changes to the wards.

The tattoo flared again, and Derek growled low in his throat. Stiles winced and rubbed his own through his shirt. “Think we should call Dad?”

Derek sighed. “Let’s see what is going on first.”

Stiles snorted lightly, noticing neither of them said, ‘it’s probably nothing.’

It had been remarkably quiet the last several years, particularly after most of the pack went away to college. Deaton had theorized breaking up the menagerie of supernatural creatures might have helped curb the draw to the area. The most common thing they dealt with these days were rogue werewolves and negotiations with other packs.

 

“Woah,” Stiles said, as Derek pulled onto the gravel road that led to the shell of the Hale house. The clearing was bright as full daylight even though it was 6pm in mid-December. Stiles looked in the passenger side mirror, checking out the road behind them. It was still cloaked in the twilight, sliding toward full darkness.

“Call the Sheriff,” Derek said, as he stepped out of the car.

Stiles scrambled for his phone and almost tripped over his feet getting out of the car. “Wait a damn minute!” Derek complied, which told Stiles just how unnerved he was. With his eyes peeled on the clearing, he quickly updated his dad, and then slid the phone in his front pocket. “He’s on his way,” he murmured. “20 minutes, tops.”

Together they moved to the front of the car, paused. “I can feel it,” Stiles said quietly. “Druid magic.”

“Great,” Derek said, voice dry.

“Hey!” Stiles' head snapped back. “You like my magic.”

“You’re not a druid.”

“Well no,” he admitted. “But I’m something.” There was a moment when Stiles saw a ghost of a smirk begin to grace Derek’s mouth. In a flash, it was gone, and Derek’s claws were out, his arm thrown in front of Stiles as if for protection. 

“What the –” he began, rolling his eyes at the protective measure. His eyes followed Derek’s gaze, and he prided himself that he didn’t jump three feet in the air. It was bad enough he knew he was gaping. Time Lords. There were fucking Time Lords standing in front of him. “Derek –” 

“I see them.”

“Hello,” the brunette woman in the middle said. She stood slightly in front of the male on the left and the female to her right. “We are here to right a wrong.”

“Who are you?” Derek asked teeth elongated, bared. “What are you doing on my land?”

“We are The Council.” She opened her palms outward. “We mean you no harm.”

“No one ever does,” Stiles said, forcing his mouth to work even though it was dry as dust. He crossed his arms, cocking his head, considering. “Why are you dressed like Time Lords?”

Derek did a double take, then stared at Stiles. “Like what?”

“Time Lords. They look exactly like Time Lords from Doctor Who, the reboot.”

Derek looked back at the three, then carefully back to Stiles. Stiles knew he was making sure he kept them in his sights. “Stiles, they are dressed in Celtic ceremonial dress.”

Now Stiles did the double take and stared at Derek. “Seriously, dude?” 

“Don’t call me –” 

“Really, Derek? Right now? Bit not good.”

Derek turned to stare at him, his mouth pulled down into a frown, incisors retreating. “Are you quoting Sherlock to me now? First, it’s Doctor Who, now Sherlock.”

“Well, what have you been binge watching?”

“Outlander!” Derek bit out.

They both stopped dead, eyes widening in understanding. Together they turned back as one to the waiting entourage. 

Stiles knew his eyes were bugging out. These people, the ‘Council’ looked different to him and Derek: dressed in the costumes of the two shows they’d been recently binge watching.

“We tried to take the form of something you were comfortable with. I am Elysia.” She gestured to the female to her right. “This is Terra.” To the man on her left, she said, “And Tormand.” They offered a deep nod.

“Why are you here?” Derek asked again, his voice low, dangerous. 

“We were just made aware of a wrong,” Elysia said. Her vivid aquamarine eyes looked sad. “We are here to correct it.”

“What kind of wrong?” Stiles asked. In his experience, not a single supernatural creature who had stepped into Beacon Hills had ever come back to ‘right a wrong’. “And how can you ‘correct’ it?” He immediately thought of messed up timelines, multiverse theory, and the kind of power it would take to even present themselves to him and Derek in different clothing. Who the hell were these people?

Elysia answered the question in Stiles' head, the one unasked. “We are The Council. We exist in a different plane. Our purpose is to ensure universes are not tampered with. The wrong we have found was very dark, very well hidden. It is what has caused so much sorrow in this place. Sorrow that was never to have been. It has upset the balance of this universe and has impacted our Council.”

Stiles let out a scoffing laugh, crossing his arms around himself, causing Derek to stare at him. Stiles sank into the hood of the car, leeching the warmth of the engine block. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll bite. What was the ‘wrong’ and how are you going to fix it?”

Elysia nodded her acquiescence. “Through dark magic, a powerful druid laid the groundwork to obtain ultimate power through your nematon.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Stiles felt his gorge rising, viciously swallowing it down. “That Darach damn near destroyed us! That was six years ago! How are you going to fix it now?? People died!”

“Time doesn’t have the same meaning to us,” Elysia said. She paused as Terra raised her head to murmur something to her. “Terra has reminded me of the linearity of your time. The ‘Darach’ of which you speak, put her plans in motion many ‘years’ earlier. It began when she poisoned the Emissary to the Hale pack.”

“Our Emissary hasn’t been poisoned,” Derek said. He half turned toward Stiles, who raised his eyebrows in question. “Get them out here.” But Stiles already had his phone out and already punching the recall button for Scott. 

By the time Stiles ended his call, he heard the crunch of tires on the road. He looked at Derek. 

“Sheriff,” he confirmed.

The car rolled to a stop, and Stiles glanced back in time to see his father move into a defensive posture, gun drawn between the car and the door. “Put down your weapons!” he called.

Whipping back around, Stiles didn’t see weapons on the Time Lords, the raised eyebrow on Derek said the same. “Dad, they don’t have weapons."

“I’m looking at AK-47s strapped to their backs. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh and turned back to The Council. “Look, you’ve got to settle on a form, and not probe our brains for something you think we’d like to see. You’re probably all camo-ed out for my dad,” he waved at him. “And it’s freaking him out.”

“What form should we take?”

“How about something not threatening?”

Before Stiles could blink, the three had shimmered and were then standing there in silver robes, their hair covered by geometric hats worthy of British royalty on Derby Day. “Derek?”

“Silver robes.”

“Dad?” Stiles heard his dad stand up, moving around the car door. “Yes, silver robes. And crazy hats.”

“No weapons?”

“No weapons,” his dad said, but Stiles saw his guard was still up as he moved to flank Stiles on the other side. “What’s going on boys?”

Derek did the introductions, and summarized what they had learned, and concluded with the information that Deaton and Scott were on their way.

The Sheriff turned to the visitors. “How could you fix something that occurred over five years ago?”

Terra conferred with Elysia before Elysia spoke. “While we disagree with your assessment of the time in which this occurred, for sake of continuing this discussion, we will allow that misunderstanding to stand.”

Stiles snorted. “As if we could ever forget that reign of terror and when it occurred.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice quiet. “Let’s hear them out.”

Elysia nodded, then began. “Once we realized the damage wrought to this universe, we explored opportunities to correct the timeline.”

“Oh boy.” The Sheriff side eyed Stiles. “I told you and Scott once before: if time travel is real I’m out.”

Stiles snickered and knocked his shoulder against his father’s. Derek released a warning growl, and both Stilinskis straightened.

Elysia continued. “Unfortunately, we cannot go back and erase the events that occurred. There is too much dark magic, and no assurance the druid would not succeed again.” 

“So,” Stiles drug out the word. “What does that mean? How can you correct it if you can’t stop it?” 

Before Elysia could answer, the sound of tires locking up as brakes were slammed on, drew everyone’s attention to Scott and Deaton’s arrival. Stile heard his dad mutter about speeding tickets.

Scott raced to their side, scenting them, scanning for injury. 

“We’re fine,” Stiles said, turning to watch as Deaton exited the car. For a moment, the vet stood stock still, shock in his eyes, which amped up Stile’s anxiety. “Oh boy,” he muttered. The wolves tensed, and his father’s hand went to his gun.

Deaton ignored them all, walking past them, staring straight at Elysia. He stopped and bowed low. “My liege.”

“You know them?” Stiles blurted out, taking a step forward even as Derek’s hand came up to catch his arm. 

“Alan?” the Sheriff questioned. “What can you tell us?”

“The Council holds sway over all magical creatures. From The Council sprang all magic.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Derek said. 

“You were young when you lost your family, Derek,” Deaton said. “The Council is sacred. Your mother would have most likely provided you that education as you grew older.” 

“You never mentioned them to me,” Stiles countered.

“You are very early in your training.” Deaton looked at Stiles. “There is a lot you still haven’t learned.”

“Great,” Stiles said, throwing his arms up. “Good to know. Now: can we get back to the problem at hand?”

“Please,” the Sheriff seconded.

Again, Derek recited the events, this time to get Deaton and Scott up to speed. 

As he finished, Stiles spoke up, “Deaton, Elysia,” he waved his hand at the woman who had so far done all of the speaking, “Says the Darach poisoned you.”

Elysia shook her head. “No. I said the Darach poisoned the Emissary to the Hale Pack.”

“Well, he’s standing here,” Stiles said. “Does that mean he is poisoned and doesn’t know it? Or is this a timey-wimey thing and he will be poisoned?”

Deaton froze and turned slowly to look at Elysia. “The Hale Emissary was poisoned?”

“Yes. Many of your years ago.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed as he looked between Deaton and Elysia. “What are you saying?”

Deaton sighed. “I was not your pack’s first emissary. I took her place after her death.”

“Huh,” Stiles said. “That’s new.” He looked at Derek, who shook his head. Not that Stiles was surprised, Derek hadn’t even known Deaton was the Hale Emissary until Deaton told him.

Elysia began again. “We cannot go back and stop the poisoning of the Hale Emissary, as we discussed earlier. There is too much dark magic tied into the fabric of that time. Also, there is no guarantee events would not be compromised by the Darach at a later point in the timeline. We have reviewed all possibilities: past, and future. Here, now is the best time to correct the wrong done to you and your pack.”

“How would you do that exactly?” Derek asked. 

“By bringing back those who were innocently taken due to the Darach’s interference, we can begin to right the events in your universe that have been wronged.”

For a long moment, silence hung in the clearing. Not even the leaves rustled. It was so silent Stiles could hear his own heartbeat. 

Then everyone spoke at once: “What??” “Are you saying –” “You can’t do that, can you?” “This is crazy!”

Only Deaton remained silent.

Finally, Scott stepped forward. “Do you mean,” he hesitated. “You could bring Allison back? Derek’s family??”

Ice ran down Stiles' spine, and he closed his eyes as his vision swam, breath hitching. Memories of the nogitsune never failed to almost destroy him. Never. And he guessed he was glad of it. He didn’t want to lose more of his humanity than he already had. Derek and the Sheriff reached for him at the same time. “Stiles,” his dad breathed. “Don’t.”

“Among others, yes,” Elysia said.

Stiles head snapped up, as he felt Derek still. “What does that mean? What others? Who??”

“I need to sit down,” Scott said, then sunk to the ground. “Wish you’d rebuilt this place, Derek. I could really do with a porch right about now.”

In a blinding flash of light, the Hale House appeared. Rebuilt, complete.

Stiles stopped breathing, trying to understand what had just happened. He blinked, blinked again, then turned to Derek, worried.

Derek stood stock still, color draining his face, and Stiles saw blood dripping from his clenched fists.

“Oh my God!” Scott hung his head even lower. “You really can bring her back.”

“Is it real?” the Sheriff asked.

“How dare you?” Derek growled. “I don’t give a damn who you are, you have no right–” he broke off, turning away. 

Stiles moved to him. “Derek.” Touching Derek’s arm, he reached for the strand of magic that bound them, necessary to be bound to the Hale wards. He pushed comfort through the magic, glancing down when he saw his tattoo flare with light again. 

On any other day, that would be a concern. But, now? Not his first problem. 

He turned to the members of The Council. “Spit it out. Tell us what you’re planning to do. All of it. We can’t keep getting punched in the gut every time you dribble out a detail here and there.”

Elysia demurred. “There are no others joining us then? We would gladly finish the telling if there are no others joining us.”

Stiles sighed. They had a point. “Scotty?” Stiles squatted down to his best friend, well, his other best friend, and touched him on the shoulder. “Should we call your mom?”

“I don’t need my mom!” Scott growled.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Stiles shook him. “I meant in case people are actually, you know, ‘coming back’. I thought we might need a medical professional here.”

“Not a bad idea, kid,” the Sheriff said. He crouched down, to look at Scott, who still looked a shade green, and then up to Stiles and Derek, who was unflinchingly staring away from the house. “You boys wait here. I want to talk to Alan. I’ll call Melissa.”

As he stood up, the Sheriff spoke to Elysia, “I’m going to call Scott’s mother. She is a nurse, and we’d like her here to help. She will be the last person joining us.” He hesitated a moment, then nodded toward the house. “Is that real?” he repeated his earlier question.

The Council members nodded. “It is of real substance, put back into the state of order it was in before the devastating fire.”

A groundout whimper escaped Derek, and Stiles, winced, feeling Derek’s pain centered in his own chest, tattoo lit once again. “Come on big guy, let’s take a walk.” Over his shoulder, he told his Dad and Scott, “We’ll be back when Melissa gets here.”

 

The deeper they walked into the woods, the spongier the earth became beneath their feet, the smell of pine needles & leaves releasing their pungent fragrance as they strode over them. Keeping one eye on the ground and his feet, and the other on the werewolf at his side, Stiles remained quiet. He could feel the pain Derek was in via the bond between them. The magic tying them together after Stiles had moved back to Beacon Hills, had an interesting impact on his and Derek’s relationship. 

Throughout the remainder of Stile’s high school days, they’d maintained their bickering/lifesaving routine, heavily underscored by the desire Stiles finally quit pretending he was successfully hiding. He’d never acted on it, firmly believing he had zero chance with Derek. 

Over time his lust for Derek had mellowed, deepened to a deep abiding affection for the werewolf. It helped that Stiles moved on to fairly meaningless ‘friends with benefits’ relationships, after breaking up with Lydia, and two subsequent painful breakups at GWU: one of each gender during his sophomore and junior years.

When Stiles had returned home from school on breaks, he and Derek began hanging out more. Upon moving home six months ago, while Stiles still technically lived with his Dad, he spent most of his time at Derek’s loft, working on translating bestiaries, when he wasn’t working with Deaton on continuing his magical education. 

Once the wards were tied to their tattoos, after graduation in June, Stiles could feel Derek like a low soothing hum through the bond. They were still quick to bicker, but Stiles knew, without a doubt, it was all done in affection. 

Stiles had double majored in criminal justice and mythology, his two passions. He’d thought about going into the FBI, had even attended a summer internship right out of high school, but he’d found out quickly that his snark was not appreciated, and he knew he’d never make it through the academy.

As a side gig, he’d fallen into the translation of bestiaries after spending the summer between his junior and senior year in college in Rome learning to read, write, even rap and sing in Latin. After that, word got out of his abilities to translate old texts. Originally, it had been painstaking, until he finally realized at Halloween, while contemplating carving a pumpkin, that his magic had afforded him an amazing ability.

He’d been running his hand over a template he’d printed out, while his other hand was on the pumpkin, trying to work out the best placement. As he traced the template with one hand, and the pumpkin with the other, he’d automatically etched the pumpkin. 

He’d stepped back, shocked, and looked over to where Derek had entered the kitchen. The jackass had just raised an eyebrow, as he’d retrieved a bottle of water. “Nice going, Sparky.” But he’d remained in the kitchen while Stiles, who was shocked speechless, finished the etching.

It had probably taken him a week to realize he could do the same with the texts in the bestiary. By running his fingers over the Latin text, with another hand hovering over his laptop, the blank document on the screen was filled with the text, and drawings, in English.

“Whoa!” he’d said, sitting back. 

“Took you long enough,” Derek had teased, from where he’d been sitting in one of the oversized arm chairs, reading a book. 

“Shut up,” Stiles had said. “Jeez, you could have just told me.”

“Nah,” Derek retorted. “Where would be the fun in that?”

Yes, Stiles thought, as he tramped along beside Derek, his tattoo still thrumming, the bond between he and Derek was alive and well. They were like an old married couple: comfortable in each other’s space, complete with a lack of sex.

The link between Stiles and Scott had been subtler. They knew if each other was in mortal danger: real or perceived, but Stiles couldn’t ‘feel’ Scott the way he could Derek. 

Derek paused by a stream, nosing his boots into the springy moss. “We used to jump this brook during our full moon runs. Even the tiny cubs could make it.” His voice was quiet, and Stiles knew he was a million miles away, or a million years ago.

“It was like a big moment when someone made that first jump,’ he finally continued. “We celebrated.”

Stiles stepped closer. Even with the closeness they now shared, it was rare for Derek to talk about his family. Stiles didn’t want to break the moment. Yet, he couldn’t slow down his mind as it careened from one question to the next: could The Council really give Derek back his family? How would that even work? Would they be the same age they were before they died? Would Allison? Why was now the only time they could ‘bring them back’? Raising his hands, Stile rubbed his temples, he finally gave in and asked. “What do you want to do?”

Derek turned, “What do you mean? Does it matter what I want? What do you want?”

“This is nuts,” Stiles said, running his fingers through his hair. “How can this be happening? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Now Derek snorted with painful sounding laughter. “Since when does anything around here make sense?” He reached out and touched the t-shirt, covering Stiles tattoo. The tattoo was still dimly lit, visible through the thin material. “Any idea what is going on here?”

Stiles bit his lip, and shook his head, “No. You?”

“Not a clue,” Derek said. He turned, offering his back to Stiles. “Is mine glowing? I feel you through it more. your frustration and anger.”

Stiles pulled up Derek’s jacket. The triskele didn’t appear to be emitting any light. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “No eerie ghost lights, like on yours truly.” He let the jacket back down, tugging it into place. “So, what? Did we decide what we want to do?” He didn’t know what he wanted. Except he did. He wanted Derek to be made whole again. Pivoting the topic, he asked, “Will Allison really be Allison?”

Derek turned away for a moment, took a deep breath, and then turned back. “I guess the only way to find out, is to go back and see what they say.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I want to know how long the Darach has been interfering in my life.” Cocking his head, he listened. “I hear Melissa’s car. Your dad is going to be threatening more speeding tickets.

Stiles nodded, lost in thought. Would bringing Allison back help bury his own ghosts? If he was asking himself that question, what must Derek be thinking ten times over? 

They both stopped at the edge of the clearing, the artificial light glaring after the natural darkness of the forest. Melissa McCall stood by the side of her car, staring, as Scott and the Sheriff hurried toward her.

Swinging his gaze to follow Melissa’s Stiles swallowed a low whistle as he looked at the mansion for the first time. The Hale house was magnificent. Three stories of beige brick, almost blindingly white French doors, windows and a portico with the long porch were complimented by black roof, shutters and a six-foot porch swing and a bright red door. Knowing there was a basement, Stiles guessed that made the house four stories tall. 

Beside him, Derek almost whined, “I can’t go in there.” Stiles reached for his hand, locking their fingers together, and nodded. “I can smell my family like they are inside.”

Seemingly coming out of her own shock, Melissa hurried to their side. “Are you boys alright?” She looked them over, with a critical eye.

“We’re not injured,” Derek said.

“Not physically, anyway,” Stiles chipped in.

“I’ve got to say,” she said, “Your dad told me what was happening as I drove over. I almost rear-ended a guy when he told me these people are saying they can bring Allison back.” Her mouth was turned down as she gave them a long look. She clapped Stiles and Scott both on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what fresh hell awaits us, shall we?”

Stiles barked out a surprised laugh, and then slung his other arm around her, pulling her in for a quick hug. “I love you, Melissa!”

“Backatcha, Stiles,” she said, as they moved toward the others waiting near the front porch of the house.

The Council stepped back, deferentially, as they joined them. Elysia spoke, “Derek, Dr. Deaton has been explaining to us how shocking this must be for you. We are very sorry for creating pain. Our intent was to ease it.”

“Just tell us what you’re planning to do.” His voice was clipped, and Stiles felt the control thrumming around Derek, his back ramrod stiff.

Terra murmured into Elysia’s ear. 

“Ah,” Elysia said, her eyes showing comprehension. “We are offering to bring back those who were wrongfully taken from your pack due to the damage wrought by the Darach many years ago.” She looked deeply into Derek’s eyes. 

“Is it an offer? Or a mandate?” Stiles asked, anger filling him up. “You,” he pointed his finger at Elysia, “said the universe was out of whack. And that it was impacting you. So, which is it? A choice or a command?”

“Stiles,” his dad admonished. 

Derek grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him back, away from The Council. “Give us a minute,” he said. He motioned his pack toward him, moving them about 100-feet back, to where the bright daylight didn’t touch them and they were back in the dark.

“Stiles,” Derek began. “What’s going on? You haven’t been this reckless with a supernatural entity in years. You’re normally the calm one in negotiations.”

Scott hummed his agreement.

“I’m just over it,” Stiles said, jerking away from Derek. “I’m sick of everyone shitting on you. All the time. And, frankly, I just don’t trust them. This is complete bullshit. We don’t even know if these whatever-they-are –” 

“Mages,” Deaton cut in, his voice as calm as ever. “And they are who they say they are. And they can do what they say as well.”

“Why?” Derek asked, and Stiles winced at the pain in his voice, pain he could easily feel through their ward bond. 

“Why would they?” Derek continued, eyes scanning Deaton’s face. “Beacon Hills and our supernatural playground has upset the applecart of the universe?” He scoffed. “It’s kind of hard to believe.”

They all murmured their assent, and Melissa ran a comforting hand over Stiles’ shoulders. “There is no way to find out except go to the source, is there?” Her voice was bright, but Stiles heard the concern.

Derek swung back to Stiles. “You good?” Derek asked him, staring like he could see the answer in Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles nodded and pushed comfort through the magic between them. Derek nodded too, and Stiles felt a warm sense of belonging in return.

“I should be asking you that, not you asking me,” Stiles said, bumping into Derek’s shoulder with his own. “And I’ll try to stay calmer.”

“Liar,” Derek whispered, as he bumped back.

 

The Council remained exactly where the pack had left them but Stiles wondered if they’d been off screwing up someone else’s life in the two minutes they’d been gone. 

“Stiles!” his dad hissed.

“Oh, did I say that aloud?” he raised his eyebrow in his best imitation of Spock.

The Council appeared to have not heard him, even though Stiles knew they had.

Elysia began again. “Derek, this was not the intended path of this pack. The timeline was altered by very dark, complex magic, as we’ve stated. In wiping out this pack, things are not as they should be. We can, and believe we should restore the pack at this point in time. While it would take time, eventually the course would be righted.”

Stiles took a step closer to Derek, touched his arm. “What do you want to do?”

Before he could answer, Elysia spoke again. “We can bring back your Alpha and your Emissary first if that would help ease the decision making.”

While Derek showed no outward sign of responding, Stiles felt the pain building in Derek’s chest. Derek nodded once, tightly.

As quick as a flash, there stood Talia Hale, and a dark-haired woman, behind her, her head bowed.

The Sheriff choked, Melissa gasped, and Stiles cried out: “Mom!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia and Claudia are back. Now what?

Chaos swamped the clearing, and for a moment, the world wavered in Stiles sightline, as he fought to keep from passing out. Then his only thought was for his dad! “Dad!” he cried, lurching toward him. 

‘He’s fine, Stiles. His heart is fine.’ 

For a moment, Stiles froze. Derek’s voice was in Stiles’ head. He twisted back to look at Derek, who was staring at his own mother. Whirling, Stiles careened into his dad, “Wait!” he yelled, intent on holding the Sheriff back from rushing forward regardless of whatever the weirdness was going on in his head.

“We need to know if this is a trick!” For the first time since his tattoo had warned him of a breach, Stiles snapped into his role as emissary for Scott’s pack. This was too important. Too life changing. They had to get it right. They had to be sure.

“Melissa, Deaton,” he barked out. “Check them out. Please confirm they are real. Human. Werewolf.” Stiles turned back to his dad, and then pleaded with Derek through his bond: “We need to know.”

Melissa and Deaton moved forward, to the new arrivals. Talia greeted Deaton with a smile and was quickly introduced to Melissa. She scanned the remaining men, her eyes lighting on Derek, confusion showing on her face. “Derek?”

Scott stepped up, and helped herd Derek and the Sheriff back, away from the two women, and Stiles nodded his gratitude. They had to be sure. 

Stiles could barely stand to look at the women, keeping his eyes on his dad and Derek. He was absolutely gutted, and from the emotion he was getting through his suddenly souped-up link with Derek, and the look on his dad’s face, he knew they were as well.

Hearing his mother’s voice as she greeted Melissa and then Deaton, Stiles’ head swam yet again and tears sprang to his eyes. His mom. His fucking mom was right there, not 20-feet away. Angrily wiping away the tears he saw her scanning the odd little group they made as if she too was trying to figure out what was happening. 

She glanced around, did a double take as she saw the Sheriff. Stiles felt like someone sucker punched him as her gaze moved over him, and he realized his own mother didn’t recognize him. “John?”

Stiles felt his dad’s body tense where Stiles had a grip on his shoulder. He nodded briefly in acknowledgment. 

“Scott,” Deaton called. “Please get my bag from the car.

“Mine too,” Melissa said, her fingers already on Claudia’s pulse point at her wrist, ready to begin a silent count while eyeing her watch.

Minutes slowly ticked by as the newcomers were subjected to a battery of tests, by both medical professionals. 

Turning his attention back to Derek and his dad, Stiles could barely comprehend how they were still standing. Stiles didn’t even know which revelation to try and process first: his mother, his MOTHER was back? 

She was apparently poisoned by the Darach, the same Darach that unleashed holy hell on them back in high school? The one who seduced Derek, kidnapped his father, and through her death reawakened the fucking Nematon? 

How about his mother was Talia Hale’s emissary? How was that for irony? He briefly flashed on that night so long ago when he’d first seen Derek Hale who threatened him and Scott, warning them off his property. 

Come to find out Stiles’ mother was Derek’s mother’s emissary? And now, both dead for so very long were back? And both were going to have to be told about the carnage reaped in their absence.

His breath caught in his throat, his lungs threatening to close as he swallowed back nausea climbing up his throat. The fucking Darach. He felt hands on his shoulders, his dad trying to talk him through his looming panic attack. 

“Stiles, breathe with me.”

And he tried, he really did, modulating his breathing to echo his dad’s, disgusted with himself that he couldn’t control his own body. Sweat broke out all over him. Shit. This was going to be a bad one.

‘You can do this,’ Derek’s voice sounded inside Stiles’ head. Stiles would have laughed if he’d had the breath. As it was all he could do was look up, caught in the concern in Derek’s face. Interesting that Derek didn’t seem to be too bothered by this telepathy-thing they had going on.

“Come on, buddy,” Scott said, his warm hand clasping around Stiles’ neck. “Listen to your dad.” 

“Stiles!” Melissa called, her voice coming closer. Her hand on his shoulder joined the others. “Honey, focus on relaxing your muscles. Remember how we practiced?” He felt her hands join the others on him.

Tears sprang to Stiles' eyes, as he forced himself to clench and then relax various parts of his body.

An unexpected warmth traveled up his legs, spreading through his stomach and his chest. ‘Are you pain-sapping me?’ he asked Derek.

Derek frowned, looked at Scott, and then shook his head. ‘But I could if it would help.’ Stiles saw greyish-black moving up Derek’s arm and felt the familiar relaxation on the back of his neck where Scott mirrored Derek’s actions. It felt good, but it wasn’t like the warmth that was still tingling around his legs.

Continuing to breathe, and clenching and unclenching as Melissa directed him to a muscle group, Stiles’ breathing came easier, and easier. 

He had no idea how long the group of them were huddled there, in fact, he had no idea he was sitting on the ground until his head cleared. “I’m good,” he said. “I’m good.” 

And surprisingly, he actually did feel great, all things considered. The ache that normally settled in his chest for hours after an attack, wasn’t there. “You guys are the best medical team ever. I’m keeping you on speed dial.” 

Scott and Derek both put out a hand, silently asking if Stiles was ready to stand. Nodding, he accepted their hands. Carefully, they leveraged him up, both touching his shoulders, holding on for a long moment. His dad pulled him in for a hug, holding on just a beat too long. Guilt ripped through Stiles. Worrying about him was the last thing his dad needed right now. When his dad pulled away, he turned his head, and Stiles knew he was fighting back emotion.

‘His heart is fine,’ Derek communicated. ‘It always has been.’

‘He’s all I –’ Stiles let out a long breath. Dear God, it wasn’t true anymore. He turned to look at the porch and his mother was half off it, frozen, stunned recognition in her eyes. 

Turning back to Melissa, he cleared his throat, they needed to keep moving forward. “Tests all done?” 

Melissa nodded and then embraced Stiles briefly before moving back to the porch. She offered a hand to Claudia, who Stiles could see was trembling. “Why don’t we get you back up into the seat. This has to be very shocking.” 

Deaton came down the steps and helped Melissa guide, Claudia, sitting her next to Talia. He and Melissa conferred briefly, before turning back to the waiting men. 

Melissa spoke first. “We’ve done several tests to check for aliveness as a human, and looking for spells that might indicate magical reanimation.” She glanced at Deaton as if to confirm she had said it correctly. He nodded. “We found nothing out of the ordinary. They appear to be who they, well, appear to be: Claudia Stilinski, human. Talia Hale, Alpha of the Hale Pack.”

“I think it is more accurate to say, ‘Claudia Stilinski, mage,’” Deaton clarified.

“So, they’re real?” the Sheriff asked baldly. “No zombies, no puff of smoke they’re gone again? They are ‘back from the dead’, real?” He looked at the doctors, the two women, and The Council.

“That is correct,” Elysia said, smiling. “They are the Alpha of the Hale Pack and her original emissary.”

The scene broke into cheers of happiness, tears, sobs, and hugs, as Talia moved carefully to Derek, who immediately bared his neck. They stood close to one another, but Stiles could see the painful space between them and his heart ached even more.

Talia, seemingly having none of it, pulled Derek to her, and scented his neck. Stiles tried to ignore the pain, relief, love and a thousand other emotions that ran through Derek as he relented and wrapped his arms around his mom. Even without the bond, Stiles could hear Derek's hitched breathing as he gulped in the scent of his mother.

His father had no such concern and raced up the porch to embrace his mother. 

“Son?” his dad called, beckoning him over. “Come here.” He turned back to the woman in his arms, “This is our amazing son, Stiles.” 

Moving to them, Stiles choked up as he smelled the almost forgotten scent of lavender his mother favored.

“I just can’t believe I missed all these years,” Claudia wept freely, one hand around her husband’s neck, one reaching up to touch Stile’s cheek. “You were so young the last time I saw you, Stiles.”

Before he could formulate a response, Stiles felt a gut punch ripple through his bond from Derek, as Talia said, “Is there a reason we’re standing out here, instead of going into the house?”

Once again, silence descended over the group. Before it became too awkward with answers no one was willing to give, Elysia spoke. “You have been gone for 12 and 14 years, respectively.” She nodded at Talia and Claudia. “There is much you have missed. We can give you the memories of the events themselves.”

“No!” Derek cried out and Stiles felt the flood of shame through the bond. 

Breaking free from his parents Stiles went to Derek, “Hey, hey, Big Guy. Let them do it.”

“No,” Derek closed his eyes, wrapping his hands around Stiles’ shoulders. “She can’t know.”

“Derek,” Stiles broke off. ‘Derek.’ He thought. ‘Look at me.’

Derek’s eyes opened. 

‘Listen, Derek. She is going to find out. She needs to know. Let them bring them up to speed so you don’t have to.’

Derek looked away, fighting to maintain control. ‘I – there is so much...’

‘I know, Der. I know. My mom is going to find out I killed Allison.’

‘You didn’t kill –’

‘—and you didn’t kill them!’

“What is going on?” the Sheriff asked. 

“I think,” Deaton began carefully, “They are communicating telepathically.”

“What??” the Sheriff started toward them. “Stiles! Derek!”

They broke apart, and both looking away, avoiding eye contact with the others as they all stared at them. 

“Stiles,” Deaton cut in before the Sheriff could say anything further. “Why didn’t you tell me you could speak to Derek in your head?”

“It just started,” Stiles said.

“When?” the Sheriff barked, his full attention on Stiles and Derek. Stiles knew ‘interrogation’ mode when he saw it.

“Like, just now. After we arrived.” He turned and fluttered his hand toward his mother and Talia. “After they arrived.”

Everyone turned to look at Elysia.

Elysia smiled. “Their communication has not been enhanced or impacted by us, per se. Rather by the events now set in motion.” 

Before anyone could comment, she turned to the newly returned women. “Now, shall we begin the event upload for Claudia and Talia? Ladies,” she motioned toward the porch swing. “You’ll need to sit down for this.”

 

Zapping people back from the dead and rebuilding a completely gutted mansion seemed to only take seconds, but it took several long minutes for the transfer of information to be imparted to the women.

Stiles felt the sweat dripping down his back, and then Derek and his dad’s arms around him, Scott on the other side of Derek as they offered one another solidarity for what felt like forever.

Finally, Tormund & Terra removed their hands from the sides of Claudia and Talia’s faces and stepped back. The women sat there, their eyes glazed. 

Abruptly, Talia stood up and looked at everyone. “I need a few minutes with my son.” She opened the door to the house and took a step inside. “Derek, please.”

Fear ripped through Stiles' belly, and he knew it wasn’t his own. ‘Derek. She needs you. I’m right here. We’re right here. We’ve got you.’ He felt, rather than saw, Derek’s acknowledgment as he stepped forward. 

Claudia turned to Stiles and his Dad, as Derek walked up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and slow as if he was heading to the executioner’s platform. 

“John, Stiles,” tears ran down her face, as she held her arms out. “Please, I’m so sorry. I had no idea I’d been poisoned.” Stiles followed his dad to the stairs on the porch, wincing as he half-expected his foot would go right through the wood of the stairs, still not convinced this wasn’t all some sort of dream. 

Gingerly, he sat down on the porch swing, his hand behind his mother’s back, hand clasping his father’s arm. He prayed this wasn’t a dream. Prayed he wouldn’t wake up. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of his parents' gentle murmuring seep into his soul. 

Stiles relaxed into the real warmth of his father’s arm beneath his fingertips, and felt Derek, even though he was as nervous as Stiles had ever felt since they initiated the warding bond. Despite his own misgivings and the uncomfortable emotions he was sampling from Derek, for the first time since he stepped into that ice bath back in high school, he felt clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out who lives, who dies, who tells their story...

The front door of the Hale house opened, almost sending Stiles into a panic, his eyes snapping open, head swiveling, breathe pushed out of him, relieved to see Derek.

“Everyone, please come in.” Derek had on what Stiles liked to call his ‘resting bitch face’. But he could feel Derek’s distress through their bond. As he entered the house, he brushed against Derek’s chest with his shoulder, issuing as much reassurance as he could. He saw Scott reach out and lay his hand on Derek’s neck, offering the same.

Stiles couldn’t help but crook his neck around, trying to take in the amazing, though now somewhat dated, décor of the house. Soft colored neutral colored walls, warm, inviting furniture that looked expensive but lived in. Coats hung on a shelf in the entryway, placed there so people could easily grab them on the way out. The tiny rubber galoshes in the boot tray below broke his heart. 

He’d read about the young twins lost in the fire, but seeing their matching blue and pink boots was almost too much. Stiles fought back the sting of tears, and looked away, making sure he didn’t catch anyone’s eyes or respond to the query he felt under his skin, from Derek. Dear God! Derek was trying to make sure he was okay when they stood in his dead family’s house??

He moved closer, this time reaching out and clasping Derek’s right bicep, finally looking him in the eyes. What did it matter, if Derek saw his tears? He could feel them through the bond already. Derek swallowed, and for a moment, Stiles saw his pain. Then it was gone, and Derek nodded, and Stiles felt the warmth pushed back his way. And somehow, Stiles knew they’d get through this. ‘It’s gonna be alright,’ he said internally.

‘I know.’ Derek paused. ‘How did it go with your mom?’

‘We didn’t really talk about it yet. She just apologized for all of this. Like it was her fault. You?’

‘About the same. She said it wasn’t my fault.’

Talia appeared on the other side of the large living room. “Our kitchen is well stocked. Anyone hungry? I think we can scrape up some food easily.”

Within 45 minutes, they were sitting at the long dining room table, eating pasta and a green salad. The Council declined, stating they needed no such sustenance. Once the dishes were cleared, Elysia suggested they discuss next steps.

“Most of the people of the pack impacted by the Darach can be made whole without issue. There are, however, a few complications we need to work through.”

“A few?” The sheriff leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Do you have any idea the impact of bringing back an entire family,” he gestured toward Talia and Derek, “from the dead?”

Elysia regarded him. “We are aware of the issues. There are reasons we chose this time. While it will not be effortless, this was the best point in the timeline to restore order.” She looked around the room. “We will discuss what we can do to assist in easing them back into the timeline, but first, I’d prefer to discuss some of the more complicated scenarios.”

The sheriff nodded but his body language told a different story. “I’m listening.”

“The Hale family was, as we all know, targeted and burned to death.” 

Stiles felt the entire room flinch.

“This was not part of the original timeline. The Darach played a role in influencing Kate Argent,” Elysia said.

Stiles’ jaw dropped.

“She used magic to stoke an obsession in Ms. Argent.”

“Wait?” Stiles cut in. “You’re telling me Kate Argent wasn’t a psychopath?”

“That is not what I stated,” Elysia said. “I’m saying the magic used around that time suggests that Kate was chosen as a tool by the Darach. She was the means to an end.”

“Why kill us?” Talia asked. “I don’t understand how that helps the Darach.”

“The Darach’s goal was immortality. Beacon Hills had an untapped source for the kind of power needed: the Nematon. By eliminating the Hale Pack, the Darach eliminated a substantial portion of the resistance she would run into, should she try to utilize that power source.”

Stiles swallowed, grateful no one was trying to let Kate Argent off the hook. She was a child molester not to mention a sick psycho who got off on torturing people, specifically Derek. Nope. No pass for Kate Argent in his book.

“Does that help?” Elysia asked Talia.

Talia nodded, but Stiles could still see questions in her eyes.

“The survivors of the fire were Derek, Laura Cora, and Peter,” Elysia continued. “Peter and Cora, like Derek, continued to age over the last 12 years. Laura aged 6 years before she was killed by Peter.”

Stiles had to look away from the pain on Talia’s and Derek’s faces.

“Peter, while having survived physically, his mind was broken. He is the first dilemma we face. He killed Laura and turned Scott.”

Stiles sat up straighter, as did Scott.

“The Council is divided on how to handle Peter. If we leave him alive, as he is now, Scott will remain a werewolf, but Laura will remain dead.” Elysia paused. “If we remove the Peter in your current timeline, and many of us are reluctant to kill a living being, then Laura can be brought back, but Scott will no longer be a werewolf.”

“But I have a pack of my own,” Scott stated. “As much as I’d like to never see Peter again.” 

Everyone looked at Talia. “What other issues do we have?” she asked, her mouth pinched. 

“Derek turned four betas, two of which were then killed during the violence that occurred through no fault of anyone here.” Elysia’s voice was kind, as she looked at Derek. “We can bring them back. However, they will also be humans again. Had the Darach not interfered, Derek would have never killed Peter to become the Alpha.”

“Are they going to remember they used to be werewolves?” Derek asked.

“Does that make a difference?” Elysia countered.

“It might,” Stiles spoke up. “If you bring Erica back as a human, and she remembers being a wolf, she is going to flip out.”

“If they so desired, I could turn them,” Talia said. “It isn’t my first choice, but we are in a difficult situation.”

Scott turned to Talia, “So you could turn me again too?”

“Scott!” Melissa cried out.

“Mom, please!” He smiled beseechingly at her. “I’m trying to understand my options.” He stilled, then turned to Elysia. “What about Isaac? Isn’t he still alive?” 

Stiles flinched at the tone of Scott’s voice. Scott’s break with Isaac had been intense. First when Isaac began dating Allison, then when he chose to leave with Chris Argent. In all the times Chris had returned, he’d never mentioned Isaac or brought him with him.

“Isaac is still alive,” Elysia said. “Like Jackson, he has struggled on his own. They both would be human again.”

Permutations of the implications of what Elysia was saying began swarming in Stiles’ head. Until now, it really hadn’t sunk in that they could all be returned.

Talia nodded to Elysia. “Please continue.”

“Allison will be brought back. She was killed through no fault of her own.” Elysia turned her gaze on Stiles. “Nor through anyone else’s either.” 

Stiles swallowed hard, suddenly regretting the spaghetti he’d just downed. For a moment, it threatened to make a reappearance. But then Elysia continued, and he forced himself to focus on her next words.

“There is an outstanding question of her mother.”

“Her mother?” Scott asked. “Why?”

“She was trying to kill you when Derek turned her,” Stiles answered. “Then she took her own life.”

“But none of that would have happened if the Hale fire had never happened.” Scott looked around the table: “Right?”

Elysia sighed, for the first time looking tired. “There is no real way of knowing. Again, The Council is split. The only reason this question has arisen is due to Allison’s relationship to Derek and Scott’s pack.”

“Anything else?” the sheriff asked, his tone weary. “I’m going to need to check in soon and then make arrangements for a few days off. 

Elysia cleared her throat. “There is one final matter to discuss. It occurred 13 months after the Emissary’s death. Again, we are split regarding how to proceed. It involves Paige Krasikeva.” 

“Who?” Scott asked as Stiles felt pain surge through Derek.

Talia answered. “Paige was a friend of Derek’s.”

Stiles looked at Talia, impressed with her discretion. Based on what Peter had told them, Paige was much more than Derek’s ‘friend’.

“Correct,” Elysia said. “What you may not know is that Peter is the one who instigated the bite, coercing Derek and Paige into going through with it. It was through her death that the Nematon gained so much power, which is where the Darach anchored herself. There are remains of dark magic surrounding this event as well.”

Elysia gave them all a moment to let it sink in. “We do not know how much of that event was engineered by the Darach.”

Derek suddenly pushed back from the table, his chair hitting the chair rail so loud Stiles winced. “I’m done.” He rose even as his mother called his name. “I really can’t right now. Not right now.” He turned and fled. Within moments, they heard his wolf baying at the moon.

When Talia and Scott tossed their heads back to answer, Stiles felt his heart swell. Derek had his mom and his Alpha holding him up. He pushed warmth and affection through his bond so that Derek knew he was there too.


	4. Chapter 4

At 1 am, Stiles pushed back the steel door of Derek’s loft. “Derek?” his voice pitched low.

“Come in.” Derek was sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around his waist. 

“Were you asleep?” Stiles asked, closing the door behind him, before crossing to the couch. 

“Were you?” Derek asked, his voice dry.

“Point,” Stiles conceded. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “This is so fucked up.” He started to sink into the couch.

“Get over here,” Derek said, pulling back one side of the sheet. “Get in bed.”

Stiles toed off his shoes and snickered. “The one time you invite me to your bed and I couldn’t get it up if I tried.” 

“That is a lie,” Derek said, his lips twitching. 

Tossing his jeans over the side of the coach, and pulling his t-shirt and hoodie off in one movement, Stiles moved to the bedside, unself-conscious as he’d never been in high school. “Which part?” 

“You’ve been in my bed before.”

Stiles snuggled down, pulling the 1,000-thread count navy sheet up around him, fitting himself into the heated curve of Derek’s body. “True.” 

“Beyond the obvious,” Derek began. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you.” Stiles turned to face Derek. “I could tell how the thing with Paige hurt you.”

“It was the straw, you know?” Derek settled down on his pillow. “She was the first human I ever killed.”

“I know.” Stiles reached for Derek’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to even ask how you knew.”

“Peter,” Stiles said.

“Of course,” Derek said. “Who else?” 

They rested in silence for a few moments, Stiles taking the time to settle in close, inhaling the scent of the supposedly unscented soap Derek used, telling him he’d showered after his run. He listened to the soothing white noise of the heater kicking on, drowning out the soft hum of the refrigerator.

“My mom is going to bring my dad back next,” Derek said. “She needs him so they can decide what to do about Peter.”

Stiles nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Cora will be arriving in about 36 hours.” Derek paused. “I told her something had come up about the property.” He laughed ruefully. “Told her I wanted to take it back from the county and I needed her here to help.”

“Did she buy it?”

“Well, technically, it isn’t a lie.”

“Need me to go with you to pick her up?”

Derek let out a broken sigh. “Please.”

“You got it,” Stiles said. He was quiet for a while, more comfortable here, in bed with Derek than he’d been in his house with his parents. His Parents. It was just mind-blowing. “I couldn’t stay there, Derek,” he whispered, eyes searching Derek’s for understanding. “It was too freaky. I felt bad leaving my dad, but I had to get out.”

“How did you know I’d be here, and not with my mom?” Derek’s tone was curious.

“Uh,” Stiles began. “I’ve frickin’ known you forever, dude. As happy as you are, or will be, to have your family back, it’s a little weird. And you’re a loner at the best of times.” He touched his own tattoo. “Besides, I could feel you. I knew you’d need to be in your own bed.”

“Do we need to talk about that?” Derek reached over and touched Stiles tattoo, his fingers werewolf-warm against Stiles’ bare flesh. “Why are we now telepathic? And why is your tattoo glowing?”

Stiles shivered under Derek’s touch. “I gotta tell you, with all this going on? Your voice in my head, and a little nightlight on my chest are the least of my concerns.” He smirked when Derek’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “In fact,” he covered Derek’s fingers for a second. “This may be keeping me sane.” 

They both settled further into the bed, Stiles moving closer to the warmth of Derek’s body. Derek was right: they’d slept in the same bed a few times. But this felt different. 

This was like two survivors clinging to each other after a natural disaster. And while it wasn’t sexual, it was comforting. Stiles thought about all the times he would have killed to have this closeness between them when he was in high school, to feel like he belonged in Derek’s bed. Of course, back then, there was no way he could have slept curled up with Derek and not be thinking sexy thoughts. Funny how things could change.

“What was it like?” Derek asked, voice quiet, but very much awake. “Seeing your mother again?”

Stiles sighed, and turned up on his side, looking over at Derek’s silhouette, the werewolf on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I can explain it, but it was somewhat like fear, shock, suspicion.” He looked away, unable to look at Derek when he admitted, “I wanted to be happy, but all I am is wary.”

Derek chuckled, turned up to his side, facing Stiles. “Me too.” He reached over and laced his fingers with Stiles’ left hand. “Think we need therapy?”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Hell yeah! But we needed therapy before this happened.”

Derek opened his mouth, and Stiles cut him off, “Do NOT mention Eichen House to me, dude. Do not.”

“Do not call me, dude!” Derek snarked back, and they both laughed quietly. 

“Try and get some sleep, Stiles.” He paused and rolled onto his back. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Too tired to even correct him that tomorrow was today, Stiles closed his eyes, hand still entwined with Derek’s, and before long, he felt the werewolf drift off to sleep.

Stiles was matching his breath to Derek’s, using it as a kind of metronome, in an effort to shut off his own brain enough to allow him to sleep, when he caught the first jolt of fear, and despair through their bond, as Derek’s body twitched, and a low moan escaped his lips. Stiles froze, wondering if he should wake him up. Deciding to push comfort to his bedmate instead, he was startled when he felt the comfort looping back to him. It wasn’t that often that they were in physical contact when he did it, and this time, he felt some of the same comfort he was projecting like it was curling itself around them both. 

As Deaton had instructed him, Stiles envisioned a gold river of magic, encircling them, keeping them safe and comforted. He could see it in his head and could feel it encapsulating them. Derek quieted from the nightmare, and for the first time since they’d gotten the call from Scott, Stiles fully relaxed, and slid into slumber, knowing he and Derek were, for now, safe.

 

“Sheriff’s here.” Stiles heard. Or thought he heard. Or hoped he was dreaming. By the time the loft door opened, Derek was out of bed and slipping into jeans.

“What’s wrong,” Stiles asked, rubbing his eyes which felt as gravelly as his voice sounded. His dad was dressed in khakis, a maroon long sleeved shirt that Stiles thought he might have stolen from Derek’s wardrobe of endless Henley’s, and a canvas jacket. He had bags under his eyes, that Stiles suspected matched his own, and his shoulders were slumped forward in such a way that his dad hadn’t gotten much sleep either. 

His dad stopped a few feet away from the bed, his head cocked, gesturing minutely with the cardboard tray that held 3 large cups of coffee. “Anything you boys want to tell me?” Without waiting for a response, he turned to the kitchen, setting down the coffee and two sacks. “Never mind. If you guys were tearing up the sheets vs. just sleeping in them, I’d have known already.” He slipped off his canvas jacket and placed it on the back of one of the chairs. 

“Wha –? Stiles gaped. “What do you mean?”

Derek’s laughter startled him, and he turned to the werewolf, who was now pulling on a shirt. “What are you laughing at?”

His dad handed Derek a coffee. “Derek knows there is no way you’d have kept your mouth shut if you guys were sleeping together, uh, not just sleeping together.” The Sheriff had the decency to blush. “You get what I’m saying.”

Sitting fully up, Stiles felt heat bloom in his cheeks. “Really? This is what you came over for at o’dark-too-early for? To humiliate me?” Hurt lodged in his chest, but he tried to push it down. He rubbed his eyes again and was startled when he opened them when Derek was right there proffering a cup. 

Stiles felt a push of comfort and then heard in his head. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s not the time to be teasing.’

“About that,” his dad said. He was looking shrewdly between them, "Talking while not talking thing? We will be discussing it.” He opened one of two sacks, and pulled out a muffin, “And about this –” he took off a large bite, just as Stiles opened his mouth to protest. “Today is going to be even weirder than yesterday. Don’t mess with me about calorie content, cholesterol, fat grams, carbs etc. Got it?” He moved into the kitchen and opened the cabinet door, to pull out saucers for the pastries. Gathering up napkins, and knives, he settled them on the stainless-steel island.

Taking a drink of his coffee, Stiles’ silence was his acquiescence of the sugar and fat now coursing through his father’s veins. Derek, in the meantime, had decoupled Stiles’ t-shirt from his hoodie, and held out the t-shirt, and took the coffee back.

Once dressed, Stiles shuffled to the kitchen. His head hurt, and he felt the low thrum of Derek’s own discomfort through their tattoos. “So what veritable sugar and fat feast did you bring for us to clog our arteries with?” 

His dad snorted but pushed the two bags at him. The three of them ate in companionable silence for a while, enjoying a few moments of relative peace, knowing it wasn’t bound to last too long.

Finally, the sheriff asked, “So, the telepathy thing? And by the way, can I just say I can’t believe we’re having to have this conversation? How did that happen?”

“We don’t know,” Stiles answered. “It just started. When mom and Talia returned.”

“We also don’t particularly care, at the moment.” Derek reached into the bag and pulled out a chocolate chip muffin. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.” 

“It was my turn,” the Sheriff replied. He reached into the other bag, and pulled out a bagel, and picked up the knife Stiles used for the cream cheese.

“Where’s mom?” Stiles asked. It sounded so odd coming out of his mouth, and he felt guilty that she hadn’t been his first thought.

“I dropped her at Talia’s,” his dad replied. “We took bagels and pastries over there too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a notebook. “I started making a list of all the things we’re going to have to do for anyone who….” he trailed off. “Returns, I guess.”

He flipped the book open, and Stiles noted the list was even longer than it had been last night when they’d worked on it at the kitchen table. The three of them. 

The three of them. 

It was hard to wrap his mind around. It was the way it should have always been. And maybe one day it would be ‘normal’ but last night, it had been uncomfortably awkward. 

“First order of business,” the sheriff began. “Cell phones.” He scratched his head. “Last thing we need is to lose track of someone we’ve just gotten back.”

“I can take care of that,” Derek said. “I’ll get everyone a plan, and go pick up phones this morning.”

“I’ll go with you and get one for mom.”

Derek shook his head. “No, I’ll get hers too. This is pack stuff, and your mom is pack.” He locked eyes with the Sheriff. “There is a pack fund. Anything we have to do to reintegrate people, the funds will come out of there.” He looked over at Stiles. “I talked to my mom about it after my run.”

The sheriff frowned for a moment, and Stiles knew he hated the idea of taking anyone’s charity. While financially, they weren’t in as bad a spot as they had been when Stiles was in high school, his own income contributing to the household account, they still weren’t rolling in cash. 

Finally, the sheriff’s shoulders fell. “That is one less thing to worry about. There are bound to be legal fees involved in declaring people ‘alive’ after being ‘dead’ for 12 years.”

“Mom said the mages had a few ideas about that,” Derek said. “Apparently, they can finesse certain things, make it easier to reintegrate everyone.” He paused. “Most everyone.”

Stiles felt Derek’s heart rate spike. “What is it?”

“Paige’s parents are dead. They were killed in a car wreck two years ago.” His voice was tight, unemotional. “I remember reading about it.”

“Oh.” Stiles felt like he’d been gut-punched, but he wasn’t sure if it was him or Derek he was feeling. 

“Mom will take her in.” Derek’s face was stone. “Give her a good life. The life she should have had. But without her parents.”

“I don’t want to be indelicate here,” the Sheriff began. “But maybe bringing her back would be harder on her?”

Derek stood, leaving half of his muffin. “The discussion is still open. I’m going to take a shower.”

Stiles sighed and frowned. That could have gone better. He was too tired to even point out that maybe his dad should have kept that thought to himself. He picked at his bagel after Derek was gone. What a fucking mess. They couldn’t even bring people back without consequences. He felt a ping from his tattoo just before the knock at the door. “Scott,” he said, heading over to let the Alpha in.

Scott hugged him tightly. “Any sleep?”

Stiles shook his head. 

“Didn’t think so,” Scott said. He looked around. “Derek?”

“Upstairs, showering.”

“Good morning Sheriff,” Scott said.

“Scott –” the sheriff’s voice held a teasing note.

“Sorry, sir. I just can’t call you by your first name,” Scott looked down, grinning. “Consider it a term of endearment coming from me.”

“Sausage roll or bagel?” The sheriff, proffered the bag, apparently deciding to let this ongoing tussle slide. 

While Scott munched through a sausage roll, Stiles pulled out the Keurig and made him coffee. As he was handing the mug over, Derek descended the stairs. 

“Shower’s all yours,” he told Stiles, nodding to Scott as a greeting.

Stiles stood to head up when Scott slowed him by catching his wrist. “I uh, wanted to let you both know, this entire situation is way more in your area of expertise than mine.” He blushed. “As your, you know, Alpha.” He looked up at them, catching all their eyes individually. “Magic is so not my thing, beyond the were-magic. I’m going to work in the clinic today so that Deaton can be out at the Hale house. Just keep me in the loop. I trust you guys implicitly to do what’s best for our pack.”

“You mean Hale Pack II?” Stiles asked. It was only now dawning on him what this could mean for their pack. Talia was a well-respected Alpha whose family had dominated the northern California territory for years. While he, Derek and Scott had done their best over the last several years, there were other packs encroaching on their territory. And the question of whether Scott would be welcome, or be willing to submit to Talia? Stiles had no idea how that would shake out.

They all looked to Derek. “Any idea what your mom’s going to do about another pack in her territory?” Stiles asked.

Derek cleared his throat, looking over their heads, focusing on something they couldn’t see. “My mother isn’t going to run our pack out of town if that is the question.” He remained silent for a long moment, then turned to Scott. “While I’m not sure of the timing, given the life and death decisions they will soon be making, protocol is that you request an audience, taking your emissary and number two with you to meet her.”

“Well that is going to be awkward,” Stiles blurted out. “Since that is you and me.” After the original group of friends had left for college, or just left, in the case of Isaac and Jackson, Stiles and Derek had stepped up, being the consistency Scott needed. 

Derek sighed. “Yes, it is going to be interesting.”

“Are you going to rejoin your mom’s pack?” Scott asked, voice tentative. “I totally get why you would.”

“I don’t know,” Derek answered, easing down onto the bar stool. “Scott, I know this is a critical decision for you and our pack.”

“Speaking of,” the Sheriff spoke up. “Have you notified the rest of them yet? The ones not in the area?”

Scott nodded. “I sent texts telling them I needed them here, if possible.”

“And?” Stiles asked, already doing a mental tally. 

“They’re coming.” He looked at each of them. “Including Jackson, Chris, and Isaac. They should all be here in the next 72 hours.” He paused, took a drink of coffee. “Did you get a hold of Cora?”

“Yes,” Derek said. “She’s due in tomorrow, late.”

“Lydia was coordinating everyone’s flight plans,” Scott said.

“Of course, she is,” Stiles said, slapping the counter. “Who else would it be?” Lydia was the youngest graduate from MIT to go on and return to a full-time teaching gig there in their history. She still helped with the pack, and regularly skyped or FaceTimed with the Beacon Hills group. “If that is the case, chances are they’ll all arrive within 30 minutes of each other.”

“True,” Scott said. He reached for another pastry. “Send me Cora’s flight info and I’ll send it to Lydia, so she can take that into account.”

Stiles whistled low. “I guess this shit is real, huh?” He stood, jerked his head toward the stairs, “I’m just gonna…” He turned and left the other three with their cooling coffees. 

Trudging up the stairs he wondered where they would house everyone, particularly those newly returned from the grave. Derek had outfitted another apartment in the building with basics, for pack members, but one apartment wasn’t going to cut it with the full crew coming back to Beacon Hills. 

 

They split up after breakfast. Derek to go pick up phones, Scott to the animal clinic to free up Deaton, and Stiles and his dad headed out to the new Hale House. 

“You know, dad.” Stiles side eyed his father. “I could have asked you if you tore up the sheets last night too.”

Pursing his lips, his dad sighed. “Yeah. About that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

In the silence that followed, Stiles could hear the echo of all the discussions they’d had about him and Derek in the last few years. “I don’t feel that way about Derek anymore.” 

“Really?” The single word was filled with all of the ways his dad didn't believe a word Stiles had just said.

Stiles bit his lip. He’d worked so hard to get over his attraction to Derek. Sublimation. It was a real thing. Thank you Psych 101. But he couldn’t deny how great it had felt to be in Derek’s bed, basically holding onto each other during yet another unbelievable situation. The good news was: it looked like no one was going to die this time. Except maybe Peter. “Again, Dad, this isn’t the thing most top of mind today, alright? Can we get back to 12+ dead people are coming back to life and we have no idea what is going to happen with two Hale packs in the same fricking town? Never mind where all these people are going to sleep once they’re here.”

After stopping at a stop light, his dad turned to look at him. “Listen, Stiles. I get it, okay?” He ran his hand over his eyes. “But you are the most important person in my life. THE most important, understand?” He sighed. “This is the weirdest thing we've had to deal with yet. I mean your mom? Your MOM?”

Stiles nodded, hearing the message loud and clear. They were still each other’s number one priority. “I know, Dad.”

“You don’t know, Stiles,” he shot back. Then deflated. “Sorry. It’s just…. she’s still young. I’m…. not.”

Stiles throat caught, and he had to choke back emotion as he nodded. That hadn’t occurred to him. He’d been so eager to get out of the house, he hadn’t realized that his being there might have made it less awkward for them. The age difference between his parents now was 16 years. Hell, he was only 10 years younger than his own mother.

“I don’t know how all of this,” his dad’s hand waved toward the front of the windshield, “is going to play out. For all I know, they could all be gone in 48-hours. And while you and Derek say you don’t care about this telepathy thing you’ve got going on, which just happened to turn up at the same time as your mother did, I’m worried. I’m worried it is somehow tied to this latest supernatural shit show, and more importantly, I’m worried you are going to get hurt. I’m worried about Derek. Hell, this whole damn thing scares me to death.”

Stiles looked out the window, the day grey and dreary. He wished he could argue with anything his dad said. His breath hitched as he considered all the things that could go sideways. He felt his magic flare, as it had last night when it had wrapped itself around him and Derek, creating a safe space for them. Reaching out, he could feel Derek’s annoyance, and Stiles guessed he'd made it to the nearby cell phone store. He pushed out a soothing strand of warmth and felt it’s echoing twang in return. Derek sent back a warm response and Stiles knew he was okay.

Turning back to his dad, he tried an experimental push of warmth to him.

His dad looked up surprised. “What did you just do?”

“What did it feel like?” Stiles countered.

“Like a disembodied hug.”

Stiles grinned and shrugged. “Close enough.”

“We need to talk about your abilities,” his dad teased, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Light’s green,” Stiles said, voice low. “Maybe there are answers out at the Hales.” 

And didn’t that sound as weird tripping off his tongue as asking about his mom?


	5. Talia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV Switch to Talia

Filled with fifteen people the house was always chaotic. Even in the dead of night, there was movement. Someone coming in, someone sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack. Restless children in their beds, listening to music, though it was past their bedtime. There were toddlers, and babies, never completely quiet during the night. Talia would sometimes want to throw her hands up in despair because of the never-ending noise.

But now? The silence was deafening. It rankled her wolf and hurt her heart. 

Drifting from room to room, she could still smell her husband and children. She stopped in the living room, looking at pictures of her sprawling family. Some formal: school pictures, posed pictures from holiday events, but many more were just snapshots of life: the twins playing in a swimming pool. Kit in his swim trunks, Kelsie a furball in a bikini. There was a picture of Cora, smiling sassily, showing off her first missing tooth. Bobby at 12, showing off his new skateboard, Derek, at age 6, mastering his first two-wheeled bicycle. 

She picked up a picture of Laura, dressed for her junior prom. Her throat closed. Could her beautiful girl be lost to her forever, depending on what decision they made about Peter?

Talia sank down onto the couch, Laura’s picture clutched to her chest. At first blush, there was no option. To lose her daughter? Never going to happen. But when she thought about the repercussions of what Peter had done, and how Scott McCall was now a True Alpha, something as rare as a unicorn, her heart clenched thinking about taking that away from him. And what of his pack? A pack her own son was such an integral part of?

There were no easy answers. 

She looked down at the picture of her daughter, Talia’s chosen replacement when the time came, and just the thought of never seeing her again was unbearable.

She had no idea how Derek had survived the loss of his entire pack. The thought of the years he’d been alone, were horrifying. Trying to understand the overwhelming demands of Alpha power thrust onto him with no preparation and little guidance? It was unthinkable. 

Standing, Talia shook off her own grief and put the cloak of Alpha back on. She would do what was best for everyone, but most particularly Derek. There were ways to remove the memories of the pain he’d suffered after the fire. She would offer that to him. She didn’t believe he’d take her up on the offer but still.

Talia lightly moved up the carpeted stairs, turning left toward the older kids and Peter and Emily’s rooms.

Stopping in the door of Derek’s room, she scented the smell of her son, the one she’d questioned about basketball practice, what seemed like only hours before. And now? Now he was an anguished 28-year-old man, guilt, and shame seeping from his every pore. 

Stepping inside, she inhaled deeply. Her fingers itched to tear the room apart, look for any evidence that her son was being molested. Had been molested. Her claws unsheathed in an embarrassing loss of control. How could she have missed the signs? He’d never really recovered from Paige. For Peter’s role in that alone, she should kill him. 

Forcing herself to calm, she walked over and smoothed the comforter on his hastily made bed. She leaned down and picked up “The Scarlet Letter” and “To Kill a Mockingbird” tidying them before placing them on his desk. 

Derek would never willingly come back here. The discomfort she felt from him telegraphed his pain at being back in this house: his home. Walking out of his room, she flicked off the light and closed the door. Yet another problem to be handled.

The pain in her chest had been visceral as she’d interacted with Derek. First, immediately following the dump of information about the intervening years since she’d been ‘dead’, and then after, when he returned from his run. Any answers he’d provided to her questions, were given politely as if he was speaking to a stranger. Any apology she tried to make, he brushed aside, claiming full responsibility for his actions that got the family killed.

He answered her questions, filling in more detail around what happened to Laura, and then finding out Peter was to blame not only for her death, but also for terrorizing the entire town, including Stiles, and a young woman named Lydia, who later became one of the pack, like he was delivering news on a TV station, no emotion, just a recounting of events, impartial and succinct.

It was with the same impassive inflection, he’d told her about the Darach, and how she’d seduced him. How the Darach had kidnapped several of the pack’s parents, resulting in them partaking in a very dangerous experiment, which had let the darkness in, to such disastrous effect, for Stiles, and a young packmate, Allison. An Argent, no less. Somehow, her son had made peace with Argents and had them as allies. It was astonishing in its novelty.

Talia remembered such a different young man than this quiet stranger. Her son had been so full of life: high spirited, always arguing with Laura, teasingly pestering Bobby and Cora, yet letting them catch him when they chased him through the woods, unlike Laura, who never let anyone catch her. 

Derek had been so careful and loving with the twins. While he had loved them both, he seemed to have the softest spot for Kelsie. More than once she’d found him holding Kelsie in the middle of the night, beating her to the nursery when the young cub was fussy or needed changing.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye to her, her teen-aged boy was now a grown man, someone she didn’t even know, even though he looked just like her father had when she was a child. More than once, she’d just caught herself before calling him ‘Dad’. 

It had also stung, that her son was no longer her beta. She could still feel him, as his mother, but the Alpha link was broken. 

Moving across the landing, to the other wing, she opened the door on the right side, walking into her own suite. Hers and David’s. Hard to imagine him gone. Dead. But he had been or was, for many years. 

Crossing to the bed, she laid down on the patchwork quilt, pulling it over from David’s side to enclose her, breathing in his scent, still fresh. 

She tried closing her eyes, but the horror of what she’d heard, learned, and how her son, her now adult son, wouldn’t talk to her about it, kept her from resting. Derek refused every offer of absolution, refused to show any emotion to her, whatsoever.

Replaying the events once again, Talia stopped on dinner. She’d observed how Derek hadn’t really been eating, pushing food around on his plate, until Claudia’s son, Stiles, had knocked into his arm with his own elbow, and gave him a look. Derek had taken several bites, while Stiles gave him the side eye. After about 20 minutes, Derek had glared at the young man, and set his fork down, with a touch of finality.  
Stiles’ mouth had quirked up in a half-smile and just the smallest of a head jerk. Derek’s shoulders had relaxed and he’s given a small smile in return. Beyond the telepathy, there was definitely something between them. She made a note to ask Claudia if she’d noticed it. 

She had ached for Derek when The Council brought up Paige’s name. She didn’t need to be his mother, let alone his Alpha to recognize that he hadn’t known about Peter’s involvement. 

After everyone left, Talia had puttered around the kitchen, waiting. She’d turned when she felt the presence of another wolf. He stood before her, fully shifted, looking very much like her own full shift. She’d knelt, and in his wolf form, he’d allowed her to hold him, arms thrown wide around him, her head buried in his soft fur. 

They stayed that way for long moments, before he whined, and stepped back, his eyes shining the ice blue he’d been condemned to after killing Paige.

Rising slowly, her hand on his thick ruff, she had followed him outside and then gathered the clothes he had shed earlier. Folding them automatically, she had laid them neatly on a pile on the swing on the back porch, boots, and socks beneath the jeans. 

She left him alone, so he could switch back and dress in privacy.

Talia was making tea when Derek entered. “It needs to brew,” she said, handing him a cup, string and paper tag anchored around the handle. He nodded and sat down at the island and opened up about his betas. He seemed to need the release, and his voice sped up as he told her about the Alpha Pack, his struggles with Scott McCall, and ultimately, how he’d lost his betas, his Alpha power, and ended up a beta in Scott’s pack.

Being an Alpha with no training was not something she’d wish on anyone. When the Alpha power races through you for the first time, it is a lot like a bloodlust. Thanks to Peter – again – Derek had grown up on stories of wolves reduced to omegas, and how if they remained unattached, they could become feral. Between the fear of being an omega and his new Alpha powers, Talia could easily understand how it had all gone south. 

He told her how he’d gladly given up his Alpha powers to save Cora, and she believed him. Her son wasn’t raised to be an Alpha. The plan was he would be Laura’s number two, even if they hadn’t yet grown into that arrangement at the time of the fire.

Curling up in the bed, even tighter, hours passed, and Talia ached for her husband, her mate. David would most likely be just as much at a loss as she was, but she had long ago learned that his strength combined with her own provided her the support she needed in her role as Alpha, let alone a mom to six children.

She’d heard the Sheriff’s car approach just as tendrils of daylight began peeking through the forest and she had been at the front door to see Claudia emerge with what looked like bakery bags. The Sheriff lifted his hand, in a wave, and Talia forced herself to smile and returned the gesture. 

It wasn’t even 6 am.

 

Talia handed a mug full of coffee to Claudia, easing onto one of the wooden stools at the kitchen island. The granite was cool on her wrists. “How’d you fare?”

Claudia huffed out, shuffling her stool closer, settling in, like she used to when she was visiting on pack business. “Let’s just say, maybe I should have stayed here.”

Talia nodded. “Well, you are always welcome.” She reached across and took her emissary’s hand, still overwhelmed to see Claudia who had been gone for two years. “We missed you so much.” 

Claudia cleared her throat and nodded. “Thanks.” She took another sip of coffee. “How was it for you?”

“I never had any idea how quiet this house could be. You would have definitely been welcome.”

Smiling, Claudia ran her finger around the rim of the mug. “I bet.” She sighed. “What do you remember?” Claudia asked.

Taking a minute to look around the kitchen, the floor to ceiling cherry cabinets, the commercial appliances, Talia’s eyes lit on crayon drawing by the twins. “I remember Kit and Katie drawing those. To me, it feels like it was less than 24-hours since I was here. I don’t remember dying. I don’t remember a fire.” Talia sat back. “And then suddenly, I’m here. And there stands a young man that looks exactly like my father did when I was a little girl.” She swallowed hard. “Alan looked older, your husband looked older. I think that was when I began to realize something was very….” She hesitated. “Different. You?”

“I remember taking Stiles to school,” Claudia said. “As near as I can tell, it was 6-8 months before I died. He was 10 years old.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “He is a grown man now, Talia.” Her voice broke. “How could I have missed all of those years? And I didn’t even recognize him when we ‘reappeared’."

Talia reached over and took her hand. “I didn’t know who he was until he had a panic attack, and everyone was calling his name.” 

Rising, Talia reached for the box of tissues on the counter. “I know, I know,” she said, attempting to soothe her friend. “It really is overwhelming.” Moving to the cabinets she pulled down saucers for the pastries she could smell on the counter. She grabbed forks and knives and took a few minutes to schmear up two bagels: one blueberry for Claudia and a walnut-cranberry for herself.

“What I know about non-werewolf magic could be written on the back of a postage stamp,” Talia admitted. “Most of my training and then real-life dealings involved pack negotiations.” She chuckled. “My family always relied on Emissaries, like you and Alan to handle magic beyond those parameters.” She waved her hand around. “This? This kind of thing is above my magical paygrade.”

“If it makes you feel any better, this is not the norm,” Claudia said. After taking a bite of the bagel she continued. “Thankfully, John hadn’t moved a particular box in my sewing room. It hid all my books. I couldn’t sleep. I mean, where would I sleep? John acts like he’s afraid of me. I even tried to nap in Stiles’ room after he left. To no avail.” 

Talia’s head came up. “He left?”

“Yes,” Claudia’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “He apologized to us both, and then left.” She sniffed and then used her fingers to push away the tears. “John didn’t even try and stop him. Like I said, I think they’re afraid of me. Maybe I don’t blame him. Either of them.”

Talia watched as Claudia composed herself, her smile faltering, but then said. “Anyway, I spent the next few hours going through the books I had. What I confirmed is that it is very rare for The Council to interfere.”

Talia excused herself to go pick up the volume she’d found the night before. Returning with it, she pointed to the passage she’d found. All her Alpha life she’d known about The Council. They were the equivalent of Gods in the magical world. Legend said they could literally do anything. Yet they seldom intervened. She’d looked up what archaic information she had. The last recorded time of their intervention was in the 1500’s, in Italy. 

Claudia’s eyebrows raised up in a question. “I think I need to peruse your library.”

“So where does that leave us?” Talia asked.

Claudia sat up straighter. “It leaves us with a lot of questions. If they rarely get involved, why here?” She shrugged. “Then again, as it relates to us, I am confident we’re really us and we're really back.”

“You believe The Council then?” Talia looked away, still unsure. 

Claudia chuckled. “Yes. As hard as it is to intellectually process: they can do literally anything.” Now she reached out and took Talia’s hand. “They are who they say they are. They can do what they say. The only hesitation I have is, I believe there is more that they haven’t told us.” Sitting back in her chair, she picked up her mug and took a drink, then held it aloft, contemplating. “I don’t think we have the full picture yet, but in time, I feel like the holes in the hearts of our sons will be healed.”

Talia mirrored Claudia’s position and ran her finger around the handle of her coffee mug. She had always trusted Claudia implicitly. “Speaking of ‘our sons’,” she began, mouth curled up into a half smile. 

Claudia barked out a sharp delighted laugh. “Yes!” she said. “Our sons appear to be linked somehow. Stiles said he, Derek, and Scott – Melissa’s son, yet another Alpha – and won’t that be a fun hierarchy to sort out – linked the wards to this place, and the Nematon to tattoos as an early alert system.”

“God,” Talia began. “That stupid tree.” She shook her head, trying to clear away all the things she’d learned last night and how that damned tree had harmed her family. “Remind me what is the link between the three of them again?” Talia reached into one of the bags and pulled out an old-fashioned donut, suddenly in the mood for something sweet. She broke it in half and offered part of it to Claudia, who accepted it. “Whatever is between Derek and Stiles seems stronger than what is between them and Scott, which is odd since he’s their Alpha.”

Claudia hmmmed her agreement, as she took a bite of the donut. “They created wards around this place, I mean the shell left after the fire and the Nematon. They tied the wards to their tattoos, so they’d know if the wards were tripped. I can see the magic between them, but you’re right. The one between Derek and Stiles is stronger, almost a gold color. The one between Scott and Derek, and Scott and Stiles is thinner, much less bright, closer to silver than gold.”

Talia sat back in her seat, perplexed. “Are Derek and Stiles ‘together’ do you think? I didn’t sense a mating bond between them, though I confess that wasn’t the first thing on my mind last night.”

“I asked John on our way over.” Claudia’s mouth twisted. “He said they were idiots.”

Talia chuckled, then changed the subject. “Speaking of John.” She’d noticed he wore a wedding ring. Talia thought it was the same one he wore when married to Claudia, but per the Emissary’s request, she’d kept their families mostly apart. 

Claudia had always planned to explain her own magic once Stiles was older, prior to coming into his inheritance. Talia herself had always worried that the then-Deputy wouldn’t be pleased to find out his wife had kept something so vital about herself from him.

As if reading her mind, Claudia responded. “He wasn’t excited to find out I am a druid with strong magical ability. I mean, he wasn’t happy that I hadn’t told him about it. I should have listened to you all those years ago.” She paused, looking off into the distance. “They’ve suffered. A lot. Emotionally, physically, financially.”

Talia had seen bits and pieces of the Stilinskis lives in the download she'd received from The Council. It was enough to know that things had been tough for the Sheriff and his son.

Talia touched her hand, her own mood brightening. “I can fix the financially.” She held up her hand before Claudia could speak. “I talked to Derek about this last night. He barely used the pack money. God knows why. The balance after 12 years is very healthy.”

“Talia –”

“– Please,” she interrupted. “There is very little I can do to help out the people who suffered because of what this Darach did to us, to all of us. But this? This is easy. If it eases the way for your family and Scott & his mom, I’m going to do it.”

Claudia sat back, seemingly capitulating.

Talia grinned. “I’m glad you agree. I sent Derek to the bank this morning with instructions to pay off the mortgage on your house, the McCall house, and to make deposits into several bank accounts. Including, putting Stiles, Deaton, and now you, on a retainer.”

“Talia!”

“We don’t take advantage of critical members of our pack, Claudia,” her tone just this side of reproachful. 

Claudia nodded, a wry smile on her face.

“Stiles has been acting as an emissary to Scott and Derek for years. He deserves to be compensated.” Talia had no idea why Derek wouldn’t have used the pack funds. He’d acted surprised when she asked. Had he not known? Perhaps Laura had never brought it up. Either way, that ended now. Pack took care of pack. 

After refilling both their coffee mugs, Talia listened as Claudia explained how odd it was to be in her own home again. A home she remembers leaving only ‘yesterday’ and yet now, it is so very different. Besides a couple of their wedding pictures and two or three of them with Stiles, there was precious little evidence of Claudia having lived there. 

“It hurt, you know?” Claudia blinked rapidly. “My clothes were gone. Stiles dug out a spare toothbrush for me. But almost all of my personal items were gone.” She looked down at her hands. “On the other hand, it makes sense. I’ve been gone 14-years. Even if to me it’s more like I went out for groceries. I mean, I’d’ve wanted them to move on.”

She stopped for a moment and Talia knew she was composing herself. 

“I know it’s the same for you, with Derek, and then Cora, when she arrives, but I see a man where my 10-year-old used to be. They aren’t the same people I knew.” She cleared her throat. “Now here I come, like –” Claudia wrung her hands together. “Like I don’t even know what. And, Christ, the suspicion in their eyes. Like I’m going to kill them in their sleep…if any of us ever sleep again.”

“Claudia, if you’re right about The Council, and all of this is real and we are real and alive again, then it will get better in time. They’ll come around.” Talia sat back. Her emissary’s path was in some ways, more difficult than her own. Once her family was restored, the majority of them would all be in the same boat: brought back from the dead after 12-years gone. 

Claudia, in her home, was the outsider. The only one gone and now back. Talia didn’t envy her path. “You’re not alone. You’ve got us too.”

Claudia’s brown eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling her gratitude.

Talia got the feeling there would be a lot of tears over the next few days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles POV

Deaton's car was already there and his dad pulled in beside him. Again, Stiles found himself gingerly walking up the stairs on the front porch, still unsure they were solid enough to hold his weight, a catch in his throat, as they knocked on the door.

Talia opened it with a smile and ushered them in, motioning them through to the kitchen, but Claudia entered the hallway, blocking their way.

“Hi mom,” Stiles said, ducking his head. She opened her arms, and he hugged her. “I’m sorry about last night.” Startled, he felt his magic reaching for her, and he jerked back, as the warmth he’d felt on his legs, surged up and toward her.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her eyes were kind, and somehow Stiles knew she felt the draw of his magic, as well. “I get that this is odd.” She reached out and took John’s hand, pulling him into a small circle. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

“Coffee?” Talia asked.

The trio broke apart. “Sure,” his dad answered. “How are you doing Talia?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” she answered, turning toward the kitchen. “Come on in. Alan is here, and we wanted to talk before we call The Council back.”

Stiles felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder. “I think that is a good idea.”

Once they were all settled around the large kitchen island, Claudia began. “I know I should have told you about my own magical ability and being an emissary.” She caught both John and Stiles eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d have more time. I thought I’d be there when Stiles got his inheritance.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” the Sheriff asked, skepticism in his voice. “I mean, I know he is a ‘spark’ and Deaton has been teaching him some protective charms and how to tie wards to his tattoo.” He gave Stiles a look. “Not that I approve of tattoos, mind you.”

Deaton cleared his throat. “I have been teaching Stiles what I could about druid magic, based upon the level of activity I felt from his spark.” He turned and looked at Stiles directly. “But based upon what has happened in the last 18-hours, and how I can feel the rise of his magic, I’d say he has not yet come into his full magical ability.” He looked back at the Sheriff. “What you might call his magical inheritance.”

Claudia took back over. “Magical ability has always been strong in my family. Had I been here, my magic would have naturally coaxed Stiles’ from him earlier. It generally begins to rise with puberty.”

“Always the late bloomer,” Stiles snarked, he suddenly felt light-headed, as his magic once again reached out toward his mom. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Deaton said. “She’s right. What you’re feeling is what should have happened much earlier.”

“What am I missing?” the sheriff asked, putting his cup down with a clink.

“Stiles’ magic is rising, and it is drawn to Claudia’s, as his mother: like drawing to like.”

“Look guys. I’m really trying here. What exactly does that mean?” the Sheriff insisted. “Can it hurt him?”

“No,” Deaton said. “While this is an unprecedented scenario for me, I think it is just Stiles’ magic inherently recognizing his mother’s.”

They spent the next 30 minutes with Deaton and Claudia testing Stiles’ magic. Stiles enjoyed the awe in his dad’s eyes as he created spheres of light and tossed them between the mages. As they continued his tests, Stiles felt his magic swelling, settling into different parts of his body, where until last night he’d not experienced it in an embodied manner. Dully, he felt Derek questioning, but he was too focused on the power that filled him. It was like the best pot he’d ever had, with a Fireball chaser.

“He’s floating,” he heard someone say but was too caught up in the energy coursing up through his shoulders and down to the tips of his fingers to distinguish who it was. His vision was gilded as he looked around, suddenly aware of all the ways he could ‘create’ whatever he wanted. This wasn’t druid magic as he’d been taught by Deaton. This was sheer, unadulterated power.

“Stiles,” someone called.

A flick of his hand swallowed the sound. 

“Stiles!” a louder voice called, more urgent.

Again, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

A moment later he felt his mother’s magic reaching out to him. “Stiles, honey. You need to discharge the magic. You need to come back to us.”

His head whipped around, cold fury in every line on his face, a cruel smile twisted on his face, his eyes sheened a vibrant purple.

“STILES!” his father yelled.

Then a panicked burst from his bond with Derek.

“Derek!” Talia cried out,

Claudia reached out again, more firmly this time, jerking hard at the magical stream he was riding. “Stiles, discharge the energy.”

He whined as he felt Derek’s panic and fear burning him through his tattoo. 

“Push it down through your feet, Stiles,” Deaton urged. “You have powerful earth energy. Return it to the earth. It will be there when you need it again.”

“Stiles!” the Sheriff barked. “Do what he says! NOW!”

Another burst of fear slammed into him from Derek, and Stiles tried to comply, feet hitting the floor, his knees cracking. Another part, a cold angry part, slithering around his heart whispered in his ear, ‘Don’t do it, Stiles. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.’

“Push it down,” Deaton coached, his eyes filled with more concern than Stiles could ever remember seeing. “The wood in the floor will dispel the magic, releasing it back into the ground. It will be there when you need it again.”

Agony shot through his chest, causing his back to arch. “Derek!” A scream tore from Stiles' mouth as he pushed downward, and then he hit the floor, collapsing in a heap, whimpering “Derek” one more time before blackness took him.

 

Stiles came to find his father and Derek standing over him. His father worried, Derek furious. “If you ever –” both men began, then pulled back, staring at each other before exhaling. 

“Stiles,” his dad said. “You scared us to death.”

“I’ll kill you myself,” Derek completed his sentence.

Stiles groaned and realized he was on a sofa. “How did I get here?” The last thing he remembered was Derek’s fear, his own panic, and his father’s ‘Sheriff’ voice that he knew better than to disobey, even at age 23.

“My mom put you here.”

Stiles groaned. “Great.” He craned his neck and raised a two-finger salute. “Thanks, Mrs. Hale.” Then muttered, “How embarrassing.”

Derek tapped him on the shoulder. “Look at me.” Stiles complied. “If you ever, do anything like that again –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles waved him away. “I heard you the first time. Message received.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Derek apparently still had a head of steam. Now he looked around the room and centered on Deaton. “What the hell were YOU thinking?”

“Derek –” Claudia began.

But Derek cut her off. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you? I don’t know you.” He turned back to Deaton. “You, I know. What the hell were you thinking??”

Stiles closed his eyes as Derek and his father fired off question after question, all aimed at Deaton. 

“Bottom line it for me,” Derek demanded, his voice a growl. “Is this magic going to hurt Stiles?”

Stiles opened his eyes to see his father, naked admiration in his eyes as he gazed at Derek. Inwardly, he groaned. His dad and Derek had become friends over the years. The last thing he needed to make his life crazier was for them to get together and gang up on him.

“John,” Claudia interjected, moving toward them. She nodded at Derek. “You may not know me, but I know you. I was there the first time you fell down, scraped your knee, cried out first in hurt, then in surprise when it healed itself.”

Derek looked abashed, ducking his head, and then over to his mother. Apparently, she confirmed it, because his shoulders dropped, an infinitesimal bit of stress bleeding away. “Emissary,” he said. 

“Stiles is a magical creature,” she continued. “Just like you. And like you, he’ll have to learn to control his abilities.” She hesitated, and Stiles knew, as did Derek that there was something she wasn’t saying. 

“But?” the Sheriff asked, frowning when Stiles looked at him in surprise. “Seriously, Stiles?” he huffed. “I’ve been in law enforcement for longer than I’d care to mention. Not only could I read the ‘but’ on your mother, but I also saw you and Derek tense up. I may not be magic, but I’m not stupid either.” He squared off his body, looking straight at Claudia. “What is it?”

Claudia’s smile was tremulous. But instead of answering, she turned to Deaton, and then back to the other men. “Stiles is strong. Very strong.”

Deaton cleared his throat. “Neither of us have ever seen magic this strong before.” He locked in on Stiles. “How do you feel now?”

Doing a quick once over, Stiles shrugged, looking to Derek as well. “I feel fine.” He stood, just to test his balance, then turned to the window as he heard a car. “Uh oh,” he said, digging his phone out of his pocket, wincing when he saw the 10 missed messages and 3 phone calls from Scott.

Within a minute, Scott was at the front door, eyes red, scanning side to side. “Stiles!”

Talia growled, low in her throat, and Scott froze. Seemingly seeing his best friend in one piece, he lowered his eyes, nodding in a bow, not quite baring his neck. “Alpha Hale,” he began. “My apologies. My Emissary seemed to be in harm’s way. And none of my pack, here,” he put some Alpha in his voice, “answered their phones.”

Talia eyed the group in front of her, save Claudia, before responding to Scott. “You may enter Alpha McCall.”

Scott hesitated in the doorway. “I’d like to request an audience with you, Alpha Hale.” His chin came up, yet he maintained his respectful tone. “I’d like to discuss the synergies between our two packs.” Derek and Stiles both relaxed minutely. 

“We have a couple of things we need to accomplish today,” she continued. “I’d like to meet with you and your envoy regarding our packs tomorrow.”

Scott nodded and then moved into the room.

Talia jerked her chin at Derek, who hesitated, looking at Stiles. 

“It’s okay,” Stiles murmured. “I’m fine. I’ll catch Scott up.”

Derek’s chin dipped in acquiescence, and after one more squeeze to Stiles’ shoulder, moved to his mother. Stiles watched them as they exited the kitchen.

“You okay?” Scott asked, looking between Stiles, the Sheriff, and Deaton. “What happened?”

“You may not be the only strong one is this duo,” Stiles said, grinning. “I may get to be Batman to your Robin, after all!”

After extracting a promise that Stiles would never do whatever it was he’d done to scare Scott like that again, Scott relaxed and let Deaton know he’d left Mason at the Animal Clinic. Mason was good with animals and would call them if anything serious came up.

Before long, Talia and Derek returned with trays of coffee and the remaining pastries. While they’d been out of the room, they’d agreed that Deaton and Talia alone would be with The Council when David, Derek’s father, returned. That would give them time to explain to him what had happened, and the current situation. 

Stiles sent a little query to Derek, probing to see if Derek was really okay, and a minute eyebrow rise and micro-shoulder shrug said he was as okay as he could be given the circumstances. 

Stiles bit his thumbnail, a habit he’d given up years ago. He couldn’t imagine how Derek was feeling, getting both parents back. His breath hitched. Except he could. Both literally through the bond, and through the return of his own mother. Stiles was literally bombarded with the unease, the wariness, the hope Derek wouldn’t allow himself to feel. He wished there was something he could do, but beyond pushing warmth through the bond, there wasn’t much to be done.

The other question they had for The Council was about Stiles magic. What did they know about it? Or, at the very least: what would they share?

Claudia asked if everyone was ready to call for The Council. They all agreed although Stiles’ own reluctance was evident in his half-hearted agreement. She called The Council, and like a trick of the light: they appeared. Same silver costumes as the day before.

Talia stepped forward, bowing, “Your Eminences, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Claudia then took lead, explaining their two-fold mission for the day. When she was done, Stiles spoke. “Last night, you said the ability Derek and I have to communicate telepathically wasn’t something you’d done.”

Elysia nodded. “That is correct. Having your mother back has opened you to your magic. It is allowing you to grow into what you should have been all along.”

“And what is that?” the Sheriff asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Why a very powerful mage, of course.” Her smile was benevolent, but Stiles found his eyes narrowing.

“Which is it? Druid or Mage?”

Elysia gave a slight sigh. “Both have a similar definition. They are considered learned individuals. Either works, in your case.”

“Traditionally,” Deaton began. “Druids were on a spiritual path, believing in the fundamentally spiritual nature of life. We use the natural world with the appropriate words to create charms, wards and the like.” He smiled. “A mage is a very well-educated scholar who doesn’t need anything to create what the majority of the world would call ‘magic’.”

“So, I’m a wizard?” Stiles asked, looking between his mother, Deaton, and Elysia.

“No,” Claudia responded. “You’re not a wizard, Harry.” She smiled. “You’re a mage. You don’t need any implements to create magic.”

Stiles opened his mouth, first to love the fact that his mother threw a pop culture quote at him, but second to argue the fact that he’d used runes, and various potions and powders that Deaton had provided, plus more blood from him, Scott and Derek than he was comfortable with, to create the wards around the Hale House and the Nematon. “Then what was with all the blood?”

“Implements weren’t necessary, Stiles.” Deaton made a small bow. “You didn’t need those things. I just didn’t know it.”

Stiles scoffed. “Right, so I could just wave my arm,” he paused, throwing his left arm out, toward the front window. “And, another Hale house would appear, right?”

Hearing a gasp, he turned and saw a mirror image, of the very house he was standing in, shimmering, not quite stable, in the grass, where previously, nothing had been.

“What the fuck?” he breathed.

“Language,” the Sheriff said, as if on rote. But he too stared at the shimmering building. 

It was like a ghost of the house they stood in. What the hell was his life? Stiles turned, shocked, staring at Elysia. “How is this possible?? This breaks the laws of physics!”

Elysia smiled. “You are very powerful, Stiles. You must learn to control it. But yes, you too could recreate this very house, once you have mastered your power.”

Mouth open, Stiles looked to his dad, Scott, Derek. They were shocked. Stiles could almost smell the fear in the air. “Derek?” His voice sounded small, even to him. 

‘It’s okay,’ Derek responded, soothing. Stiles felt the rush of comfort through their bond.

‘What the hell am I?’

‘Powerful.’ Stiles felt sure he heard a touch of humor from Derek.

‘Shut up.’

‘Do not call me dude.’ Stiles felt the humor like champagne bubbles in his blood stream.

‘How can you laugh at a time like this?’ he shot back. ‘I’m kinda scared of myself, right now.’ He felt Derek sober.

‘I’m scared of you, and for you too. But we’ll figure it out.’ Warm comfort bled through. ‘I trust you, Stiles. You’ve got this.’

“How does he learn to control it?” the Sheriff asked. “This is my son we’re talking about. I’m not losing him because he’s suddenly magic.”

Elysia spoke over Claudia and Deaton, who tried to speak simultaneously. “Stiles is very powerful. And he is more than capable of learning to use his inheritance without losing himself.” She nodded toward Derek.  
“He also seems to have a very capable partner, who will help guide him.”

“Wait a minute –” Stiles objected. He shoved an apology to Derek. “We’re not partners.” For the first time, he felt Derek’s Resting Bitch Face via the link. What the hell?

“Your bond with Derek will help you, Stiles.” Elysia, continued, ignoring his objections. She turned to Deaton and Claudia. “And you have learned teachers who can guide you on your journey.” 

Elysia turned to the Sheriff. “We recommend your son take the next several days and explore his gifts. We still have a lot of ground to cover, as it relates to bringing individuals back. Stiles should be able to help us with the integration that will occur once he has a better grip on his magic.”

Stiles jerked his chin toward the still wavering house outside. “How do I get rid of it?”

“How did you create it?” she asked. “Reverse the process.”

“Stiles,” his mother said. “Just send it away.”

“Hang on,” the Sheriff interjected. “You mean you could just ‘send away’ this house we’re standing in?”

Elysia responded. “Yes, we could. And in time, so could Stiles. But we have no intention of doing away with real estate, here or anywhere else in Beacon Hills unless we need to.” She turned to Stiles. “In the meantime, young mage, I’d recommend you be very careful what you wish for. Your magic is very wild at the moment. People could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“Fantastic,” Stiles said, slapping his hands against his thighs. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked outside at the almost-house, and just ‘wished’ it away. When his eyes cleared of a gilded haze, the house was gone.

“And neither of those events,” Deaton began, “creating it or removing it, tired you?”

“Not really,” Stiles said. His brows knit in concern. “Should they have?”

“Extraordinary,” Deaton replied. “Most magic is a draw on your energy. Even if I could do something as powerful as creating the house you just created, my magic would be exhausted, as would my body.”

“As would mine,” Claudia said. 

Elysia cut in. “I propose that Tormand, Talia, Deaton and I remove ourselves to another room, to bring back Talia’s mate. Terra can remain here, and answer additional questions you have, Stiles, about your training.”

Stiles saw Talia pull Derek aside, telling Derek to stay close. Stiles sent a pulse of comfort to him, and Derek looked up, offering up a wry smile.


	7. Talia

Talia took in her office, the cherry wood lining the wall with cabinets, a credenza, file drawers, behind her desk. The Pottery Barn colors of the walls chosen, what must now be two decades ago, for their portrayal of quiet strength. She was grateful for Alan conferring quietly with The Council. It gave her a few minutes to gather herself for what would come next. 

Outside the office, she heard the mostly murmurs, but an occasional outburst from the group in the living room. Young Stilinski was full of fire. He reminded her of Laura: clever, rapier-sharp tongue, loyal and caring, and quick to call foul against injustices. 

She wondered if this was what had attracted her now reticent son to the young mage. For attracted, or at least attached he was. This morning their scents were mingled, their affection and concern for one another, easy to see in the less than 24-hours she’d been back in this world.

“Talia,” Alan called softly, and she turned to face her old friend. “We’re ready.”

She blinked, took a deep breath and nodded. And there he was: 6’2” dark curly hair, eyes like Derek’s, skin tanned from being outdoors, dressed in his signature jeans, cowboy boots, and a light denim colored chambray shirt so well worn, the collar was fraying. 

Talia inhaled deeply, and his scent filled her with happiness bordering on hysteria, as she only smelled, David: human, husband, mate. Not a trace of magic or anything else that might make him less than what he was when she last saw him what seemed like only hours ago, on her way out the door to meet with the Dean of her college to discuss what classes she wanted to teach in her graduate-level program next semester.

“Hey babe,” he said, eyes showing confusion. “Why are we in your office?”

He had arrived facing her, inches apart as they stood to the left of her desk. He turned his head and saw Alan. “We have company?” He stared at Alan, his face creased with confusion. “Alan,” he said confusion in his voice. “How are you?” 

Talia could almost hear the gears grinding as he took in the changes to Alan’s appearance since they had seen him only the week before, to their minds, anyway.

“I’m good,” Alan bowed his head in deferment to David.

“David,” Talia began, impressed that her voice didn’t betray the tremor she could barely control. But he snapped back to her, feeling her anxiety through their mating bond. She gestured toward the corner, by the door, behind David. “We have other guests as well. “

He turned, and she couldn’t help but reach out and touch his back, ensuring he was solidly there, confirming what her nose had already told her. She introduced Elysia and Tormand, as The Council. 

David swung back to her “THE Council?” His voice was low, and Talia knew he immediately understood the import of them being there, in their house. David was her second in all things. But he was also almost solely responsible for increasing the Hale library fourfold since they had married. She might be the college professor, but David was her supernatural scholar.

Elysia stepped forward. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Alpha David Hamilton-Hale.”

Talia had a round conference table in the front left of her office, and she motioned everyone toward it. “I’m going to let The Council explain what has happened and why they’re here.” She shoved back her emotion, in an effort to be calm, but her bond with David jumped and she felt the concern and query from him. ‘It will be okay,’ she pushed back but could tell she’d failed in quieting his anxiety.

They both snapped their attention back to Elysia as she began to explain what had transpired. 

She watched and felt the emotions playing across David’s face: disbelief, grief, horror, as Elysia completed her synopsis of events to date.

David looked at Talia and Alan. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Alan said, his eyes kind. “But look at me. I know you can see the passage of years on my body.”

David rubbed his eyes. “Jesus. Can I get some coffee?” He startled away from the table when a carafe of coffee, cream and sugar and three mugs appeared on a tray on the table. “What the –” 

“Take your time, my love,” Talia said, standing to pour the coffee, a hand on his shoulder. “Still black, one sugar, Alan?”

“Yes.”

David’s eyes thanked her when she set his coffee cup in front of him. “Let me get this straight.” He looked at all of them, eyes resting for a moment on Talia, then on Alan. “Talia and I, and basically our entire family have been dead for 12 years.” He paused, his breath catching in his throat. The weight of the words sinking into the room. “We were burned to death in a fire, in this house,” he tapped the table for emphasis. “Trapped in the basement.” 

“Yes,” Alan said, emotion in his voice. “All except Peter, Laura, Derek, and Cora. Though no one knew Cora survived the fire until a few years ago.”

Talia felt the shock and pain bleeding through their bond, and the pain of the entire situation hit her all over again, as David tried to process what happened. She focused on his heartbeat to stay in control. 

“And Laura was killed by Peter afterward?” Shock rang from his voice. “I mean, Peter’s always been a little wild, but killing Laura?” Talia noticed his hands shaking. “He always loved Laura. He adored her. He was always buying her gifts, always taking her with him.” David clenched his fists. “I don’t understand.”

“We recommend you allow us to upload a version of what has happened since you’ve been gone, into your mind.”

“A version?” he asked, tone somewhat incredulous.

“Yes,” Elysia said. “We provided Talia with a version of events in Derek’s life, so she could understand what he had gone through.”

“What about Cora or Laura?” he asked, turning to Talia. “Don’t we need to know that as well?” He stopped, head cocked to the side. “And Peter, for that matter. If he’s done these awful things and we need to make a decision about how to handle him don’t we need to understand what happened from his perspective?”

To overcome to speak, Talia thanked every deity she’d ever heard of for bringing David into her life. Reaching over, she took his hand in hers. “We do,” she managed to get out. “This is why I needed you. I needed cooler heads to prevail.”

“I’m not sure, my head is any cooler than yours.” David’s eyes were filled with tears. Abruptly, he pulled away and stood. “I need to speak with my wife.” He motioned toward the half bathroom beyond her office. 

“We understand,” Elysia said.

Talia followed, and closed the door behind her, slumping into her husband’s arms. 

“How did this even happen?” he asked. “I just dropped off the twins at playschool.” 

Talia watched as his back straightened, the color leaving his face. “They’re dead.” He looked at her, and she’d never seen his eyes so hollow. “They’re all dead.”

“Sshhh,” her arms came up, and now she was soothing him, as his body shuddered, pulling deep lungs full of air. “So were we, David,” she soothed. “So were we. The Council is going to bring them back.” Her own heart hurt as she thought about how Laura’s fate was still up in the air. 

After a moment, he pulled his head back, his eyes searching. “How long have you been here?”

“18 hours,” she said, forcing back tears. Eighteen very long hours.

“And Derek, _our 28-year-old son_ , is in our living room, with our dead Emissary, Claudia?”

Talia bit back a snort of amusement and wondered that she could be laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes. Derek, Claudia, and her husband and son.” 

“Where is Cora?” David asked, clutching her arms like he'd suddenly lost sight of one of the kids at the mall. 

“On her way. She had made her way to South America after the fire.”

His look of shock mirrored hers. 

“I know, I know. Apparently, Derek didn’t even know she was alive until she was 17.” She let that sink in for a minute. “She is 22 now.”

“And they can’t just go back in time and make this whole thing go away??” David snapped his fingers. “Make it never happen?” 

Talia chuckled, though now it was not with humor. “Evidently not.”

“The Darach,” David said.

“She was very powerful and very thorough.” Talia leaned into David, happily scenting him. “Let’s start with Derek’s version of history. He is outside, and while young Mr. Stilinski is trying to keep him calm, his heart rate is ticking up. He senses you’re here now.”

“I need to see him.” David said granite in his voice and Talia knew he was moving into we’ll-get-through-this-mode. “And Claudia. Seeing Claudia would help me, I think. After all, we were at her funeral. If she is alive, then this will sink in faster.”

Talia patted his chest. “I’ll call her in first.” David let her lead him back to her office. 

She dropped his hand and went to the door. “Drink some coffee,” she said, a smile in her voice, hope back in her heart. “You’re going to need it.”

“Or something stronger,” he said.

Opening the door, Talia stepped out. She crossed the foyer to the living room. All voices fell silent as she walked in. “David is home. He’d like to see you, Derek. But first, he’d like to see Claudia.”

Stiles nodded like he got it. “Makes sense.” 

Derek looked at him, face impassive, but Talia could still feel his heartbeat, a slight tick faster than it had been. 

“To your dad,” Stiles began, speaking to Derek. “My mom is dead. Seeing her will help him ‘get it’.” He turned to Talia. “I think.”

Talia nodded, impressed with Stiles insight, as Claudia joined her in the doorway. 

Steeling herself, Talia ushered Claudia into her office where the others waited.

As Talia closed the door, David stood. “Claudia,” he breathed. He moved to her, and took her hand, before pulling her into his arms, breathing her in the way a wolf would. “So, it’s true.” His voice held a note of resignation.

Claudia nodded, pulling back a little, a smile on her face. “I’m afraid so.”

David looked at everyone in the room and then back at Claudia, drinking in the sight of her. “It’s just incredible.”

“It is,” Claudia said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

Deaton stood and bowed. “If you don’t need me, I think I’ll step out, and let you meet your son, in private.”

Claudia also said she’d take her leave as well after hugging David one more time.

Talia saw her son, their son, outside the door, as the Emissaries and The Council exited. She beckoned him forward. “Your father hasn’t had any memory upload yet. And Stiles was correct: seeing Claudia helped him understand the magnitude of the situation.”

Derek swallowed and nodded, and then entered the office. He held himself with rigidity, face impassive.

“Derek?” David moved closer. “My God, you look like Andrew.” He reached out, his arms open. “Look at you, son.” His eyes filled with tears, and he looked at Talia, the expression on his face causing her heart to clench, tears pricking in her own eyes. Again. “I missed all these years? I didn’t get to see you grow up.” Seeing Derek hesitate, David moved in, enclosing him in a hug.

“I didn’t do a very good job of it,” Derek said, engulfed in his father’s arms. “Growing up, I mean.” His eyes were stormy, and Talia saw the pain edged around his mouth. “You’re about to find that out.”

He pulled away from the embrace back and shoulders no less stiff than when he’d entered the room. He spoke to them both. “I’m very sorry for the fire. It was my fault. And I’m sorry that you’re about to find out that I didn’t grow up to be a very good man.”

“Derek!” Talia said, her heart in her throat. “I’ve seen what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault. I’ve seen how you’ve grown up. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Angling for the door, Derek, nodded his head. “We’ll talk after dad is up to speed.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I’m glad you’re back. But it doesn’t change the mistakes I made.”

Talia stared hard at the closed door, where her son had left.

“What the hell?” David said, moving to her side, slipping his arm around her waist. “I don’t understand what just happened.”

Talia sighed. “You will.” She pulled him into an embrace. “Are you ready for Part 2 of the story?”


	8. Chapter 8

As Derek came out of his mom’s office, Stiles felt the guilt and sadness pouring off of him. He headed away from the living room, and Stiles excused himself, leaving the others to determine the game plan for the rest of the day. 

Passing through the kitchen he couldn’t help but stop, aghast at the entire row of cell phones, charging. There were at least fifteen, and Stiles didn’t like to even think what that had cost. Some sales rep musta thought they'd won the lottery when Derek told them what he needed.

Stiles found Derek on the back porch. Stiles put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, pulling him in for a half-hug. “That good, huh?”

Derek made a pfft sound but didn’t pull away.

“I assume you don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles said. ‘In any form or fashion?’

‘Not really,’ Derek replied in Stiles’ head.

“You got it,” Stiles said. He looked out over the clearing. There was a large vegetable garden, mostly dormant this time of year. He saw a kitchen herb garden, closer to the porch, hearty rosemary, thyme and sage still thriving in the cool California air.

Further back was another building. “What’s that?” 

“My dad’s workshop. He was a – well, I guess _is_ an architect. He also enjoyed woodworking, when he needed to get out of his head. He was the stay at home parent.”

“Your mom is a college professor, right?” Stiles had wracked his brain trying to remember every detail from newspaper articles in the police file about the fire.

“Yes,” Derek said. “You’ll like them both. She teaches Anthropology and Dad is a huge collector of books.” He turned to look at Stiles. “If I show you the library, chances are you’ll move in.”

Stiles grinned, felt his magic begin to build, with his excitement. The few books that Derek and Peter had managed to salvage from the house after the fire had been very helpful to the pack. “I’m assuming you mean my kinda books, right? Not spy novels. Not that there’s anything wrong with spy novels, I’m just saying.”

Derek bumped against him, and Stiles felt that quicksilver bubbles of laughter flowing through his veins and he was grateful he could lighten the mood for Derek. Whatever had occurred in Talia’s office, Stiles had felt how difficult it had been for Derek.

“No, you dork, not spy novels.” Derek stared at Stiles until Stiles started to squirm. “You know your eyes change colors when your magic is rising, right? They turn purple. I can feel it rising right now.”

“You can?” Stiles considered. “Huh. You mean you can actually feel my magic?” He wondered how that worked. “How does it feel to you?”

“Like warmth rising up from my feet,” Derek said. His tone was nonchalant like this was nothing but a thang, normal everyday occurrence for them. 

Stiles appreciated the casualness. “Yep, that is how it feels for me too, Big Guy.” 

“You going to be able to control it?” Derek asked.

Interesting. Derek’s face and tone shot for the continued casualness, but concern flowing through the bond. “If Scott could learn to control his shift, I can damn well learn to control my magic.” He shot out his hand, creating a perfectly formed 5-point star, made of silver light. It twirled lazily above his palm.

“You sure about that?” Derek’s voice was low. “You scared me earlier.”

Stiles flicked his wrist, and the star disappeared. He felt an even larger jolt of unease from Derek. He bowed his head, running his hand over the back of his neck. “It will be fine. The Council said my mom is strong.” He glanced over at Derek, lowered his own voice, to match Derek’s pitch. “They said I have to trust her. My magic trusts her. I have to too.”

The silence stretched between them and Stiles was grateful they didn’t have to talk about the fact that Derek could barely stand to be in the same room as his parents or that Stiles didn’t trust his own mother, let alone The Council. It wasn’t like talking about it wouldn’t resolve anything. 

Derek turned sharply. “Come on. I know there are some books on magic in the library. Let’s see what we can find.”

“Lead the way!” Stiles forced a grin and a happy tone, grateful for a change in topic. 

As they entered the kitchen, Derek stopped short, and Stiles barely kept from careening into his back. 

“There you are,” the Sheriff said. “I think the resident druids, etc. are ready to leave.”

He looked at Derek closely. “You okay, son?”

Derek nodded but Stiles still felt the guilt and discomfort. 

“You’re welcome to come with us,” he continued. “Alan and Scott are heading to the Animal Clinic and want Stiles to go with them for some testing.”

He looked at Stiles. “I’m going to take your mom to pick up some clothes and groceries. Then she wants to do some additional training with you this afternoon, at our house.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles said. He tapped a staccato beat on Derek’s shoulder. “Coming with?”

Derek shook his head. “No. I’d better stay here.”

‘You sure?’ Stiles asked, sending reassurance across the bond.

‘I’m sure.’ But he didn’t sound happy.

“Okay,” Stiles said aloud. “Library later?”

Derek nodded. ‘Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in 20 minutes.’

‘I’ll try not to scare you next time.’ 

“Come on, kid,” his dad said. “Let’s get going. Derek, good thing you already had this time off, huh?”

“Let me know if you need me in to cover some shifts. I know you didn’t plan to be off.”

“I think I’ll be able to go back in soon.” He shot a look at Stiles. “Assuming he doesn’t blow up half of Beacon County.”

“Very funny,” Stiles said. “You better hope I don’t decide to turn you into a toad.”

The Sheriff gestured toward Stiles. “This. This is the respect I get from one of my future deputies.” 

“Stiles!” Scott called from the front of the house.

“Coming.” Stiles gave one last look at Derek. “Good luck. You know how to find me.” He tapped his tattoo through his shirt. “And I’ll know how you’re doing.”

 

Scott waited until they were on the highway before he began his barrage of questions. “So, this thing…”

“Which thing?” Stiles asked, looking over at his best friend. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Scotty.” 

“The Derek thing, you guys talking without talking thing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and half turned to look at him, his hands up, waving. “Seriously? You’re going to start with Derek? You think THAT is the most pressing thing we have going on here??”

Scott grinned, giving Stiles the puppy dog eyes. “Well, we can start with how you’ve suddenly turned into a magical giant who can almost recreate mansions if you want.” He nodded towards Stiles. “Watch what you’re doing with your hands, man. I don’t want to accidentally end up in the Grand Canyon or something. That would take me all night to get back.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up. All night, my ass. You’d be calling me begging me to zap you back.” He sobered. Scott had a point. He needed to be careful. He’d only been half-heartedly flinging his arm and thinking about it when the ghost mansion appeared. 

They spent the rest of the ride with Stiles pushing warmth, and other emotions to Scott. While Scott got some of the stronger ones, he couldn’t hear Stiles talking to him in his mind.

“I think that is the fault of the receiver, dude.” Stiles grinned as Scott pulled a punch, after parking at the Animal Clinic.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice we didn’t actually talk about whatever is going on with you Derek.”

Stiles was agog. “Dude, we spent the whole drive working on the bond between us. It’s the same bond I have with Derek.”

Scott grinned his shit-eating grin. “Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that.” He sighed, the grin falling from his face. “I don’t get it, man. In high school, you’d’ve sold your soul to the devil to be all up in Derek’s grill the way you are now.”

Stiles groaned. “Did you really just say ‘all up in his grill’?? Scott! You are hopelessly out of date.” 

“That is what Vet school will do for you,” Scott said. “And, nice deflection by the way.”

Stiles smirked. He held the door open for Scott with a sweeping bow. “Alpha, my Alpha. You’ll always have my heart.”

Once inside, Scott updated Mason, a member of their pack, and then sent him out for pizza and sodas. Within a few minutes, Deaton arrived. He checked in one his four-legged patients, checked the computer, and then turned his attention to Stiles.

“This has been a revelatory 24-hours for you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“It’s actually only been 18-hours,” Stiles said, leaning against the wall. Stiles had learned years ago to not press Deaton. Doing so would only make Deaton that much vaguer, which in turn frustrated him to the point of madness.

“I’d like to start with the telepathy between you and Derek, if I may.”

Stiles ignored the snort of laughter from Scott and kept his face impassive. Why the hell was this the thing everyone wanted to discuss? 

“When did you begin being able to communicate without speaking?”

Stiles sighed internally, and for the _fifty-fifth_ time relayed how the ability seemed to have begun the day before, coinciding with their mothers’ returns.

“But you can’t communicate with Scott in that manner.”

“No,” Scott spoke up. “We tried on the way over. But I can feel when he pushes emotion through the link.” He paused, and then his voice lost the eager tone. “And, I could feel him almost burn himself up with magic this morning.” He glared at Stiles. “I felt that. A lot.”

Deaton walked over to the storeroom where he kept his magical accoutrements. He came back with a wooden box that Stiles knew to be mountain ash. “Your magic is unlike any I’ve ever encountered.” He looked speculatively at Stiles. “I’d like to see if you can still handle mountain ash.”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Stiles countered, moving grudgingly off the wall, toward the metal table. “I handled it last week.”

“As you said,” Deaton intoned, moving the box forward, to Stiles. “It has been an interesting 18-hours.”

Stiles reached for the box, then stopped himself mid-reach. “Why would it be different now?” 

“Mountain Ash is supposed to be off-limits for most supernatural creatures.” He tilted his head to the side. “We’ve seen some exceptions, obviously. Your ability, or lack thereof, will help me understand better, what type of magic yours is.” 

“Well that would be problematic, wouldn’t it?” Stiles considered, fingers still in mid-air. “Being one of the only mountain ash wielding members of the pack is an important role of mine.”

Scott’s mouth hung open, and Stiles saw merriment in Deaton’s eyes as well. “Mr. Stilinski. I believe now that your inheritance has come in, your capabilities are well beyond the realm of mountain ash. Luckily, Scott has other humans in his pack.” He nudged the box closer. “Now, please: pick up the box.”

Stiles wiggled his fingers, enjoying the smirk on Scott’s face, before reaching for the box. He felt his magic rise, and heard Scott gasp, as he picked up the box. No problem.

“What?”

“Your eyes, dude.” Scott looked oddly proud. “They were like golden on the outside.”

Stiles fiddled with the lid. “Really? Derek said they turned purple.”

“They are both correct,” Deaton said. “When your magic is beginning to move, your irises limn golden. But, like the wolves, once your magic is flowing, your entire eye flashes purple.”

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Stiles set the box back down. 

“You’re nothing I’ve ever encountered before, Stiles.” Deaton took the box and returned it to its place in the cabinet. “I’ll have to do some reading. As will you. The Hale library is significantly better stocked than my own. Or your mother’s.”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “So, this Council? They’re the real deal?” 

“The realest,” Deaton replied. “Your mother is alive, Stiles. She is back. She will remain back. You and your father need not be concerned that she will disappear. Please relay that message to Derek as well. His family is or will be back shortly.”

Scott crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And so will my pack, and Derek’s old pack.” He turned to Deaton. “Any idea how that is going to work?”

Deaton smiled his usual vexing smile. “That is partially up to you, Scott.”

Stiles rolled his eyes when no more insight was forthcoming. “How about something practical then? Where are these people going to sleep?”

“How many rooms had Derek remodeled at the loft?” Scott asked.

“Only one apartment completely.” Stiles bit his thumbnail, then jerked his hand away, seriously not wanting that old habit to take root again. Besides, he had an idea. “Lydia decorated it for him the last time she was in town.” He looked up, catching Deaton watching him. “How strong am I?”

Deaton’s eyebrow raised in question.

“I mean, I couldn’t bring back an entire mansion. Could I replicate stuff in an apartment, like furniture?”

“What?” Scott questioned.

“Dude, we don’t have time to get those apartments into shape. Derek worked for months tearing out walls and remodeling the layout, adding plumbing, etc. to make those offices into an apartment. Even still, he never got around to shopping and making them habitable before people get here.” He shrugged. “I just wondered if I could replicate the one Derek has already done, you know: like copy and paste.”

Deaton chuckled. “It’s a little more complicated than copy and paste, Stiles.” Reaching over, he picked up a pair of forceps from the workbench. He laid them in front of Stiles. “Just like we did this morning when you were pulling up energy from the ground to create the balls of light, and the stars, concentrate on creating another set of forceps.”

Stiles focused on the forceps, moving his hands, as if he was touching them, following the lines of the stainless steel. 

One minute there was one pair. The next second, there was two pair.

“Holy shit!” Scott said, then looked at his boss, blushing. “Sorry,”

Deaton cleared his throat, looking at Scott with affection. “I’m afraid I quite agree with you, Scott.”

He turned to Stiles. “How do you feel? Any physical symptoms? Tired? Hungry?”

“Well it has been a long time since breakfast,” Stiles said, his eyes still on the second set of forceps. He touched them reverently like he was afraid they weren’t really there. “But otherwise, I feel fine. I’m not tired.”

“Should he be tired?” Scott asked. “You asked how he was feeling out at the house too.”

“The kind of magic I’ve seen my entire life requires a lot of energy, which usually results in a physical drain to the practitioner. There is no precedent that I’m aware of for being able to create something out of thin air like you just did without the aid of very dark magic. Ms. Blake comes to mind. And yet, even she wasn’t creating something physical. She couldn’t change her physical marring, only mask it.” 

Deaton reached over, asking silent permission, before taking it away from Stiles. He held it up to the light, then compared it to the original. “I’ll have to scold Mason.” He picked up a paper towel and laid both forceps on them. “But of course, the joke is on him. Now he'll have two to sterilize.” On the white backdrop of the paper towel, they could see identical specks of blood and a small bit of black suture.

Scott turned fire-engine red and tentatively stuck up his hand. “I think I’m the one that deserves the blame. I had just finished removing Molly’s stitches when I felt Stiles do whatever he did earlier. I kinda dropped them and ran.”

Deaton smiled, his eyes fond. “I guess you can be forgiven, due to extenuating circumstances.”

Stiles snorted, then clapped his hands. “So, what’s next? Let’s try something bigger. I have apartments I need to get ready!” 

Deaton put Stiles through his paces, having him replicate everything from a glass jar of cotton balls, boxes of needles, to the trash can beneath the workbench. Stiles learned to replicate each item, as it was, but then also empty of its respective contents.

They were about to try the rolling stools the vets used during procedures when Mason returned with lunch. As they ate, Deaton questioned Stiles again, about how he felt, was he tired. The answers were the same as they’d been all day: no, not really.

Stiles replicated the pizza box that still had a half a pizza in it, much to the delight of Mason. “Wow! That is awesome. Do it again and I’ll have dinner tonight!”

Complying, Stiles waved his hand with a flourish, and this time the pizza box contained a full pizza.

They debated the nutritional value of ‘magicked’ food. 

“We ate it last night at the Hale house,” Scott said. “I thought I was full.”

Deaton chuckled. “We all ate it. It was real food. This pizza is real food.” He stepped away, into his office, and returned with a light pink apple. He sat it down in front of Stiles.

Stiles focused on the apple, and another one appeared beside it.

“Can you do it with beer?” Mason asked. “I’m kicking Liam to the curb. You are totally my new best friend.” 

Scott laughed with him, “No way, man. This one is mine. All the junk food, I could ever want, free of charge.”

Stiles took a mock bow but felt a twinge of uneasiness, a stab of anger, and then, fleeting horror. He turned to Deaton. “I’m not stealing this food, am I? Taking it from someone else?”

Deaton had been watching him, and Stiles returned the favor, monitoring his facial expression, as the druid chose his words carefully. “While there is no way of knowing unless there is a rash of pizza thefts called into the sheriff’s station, I highly doubt you are stealing food from somewhere else. I’m sorry I can’t provide you a more definitive answer, but as I’ve already said, your situation is highly irregular. I’ll be making calls over the next few days, as well as researching, but this is truly unprecedented in all of my studies.” He paused and offered a small smile. “I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer.”

Deaton stood up. “Why don’t you join me in my office. Scott and Mason can clean up out here.”

Scott looked up, concern on his face, but Stiles just gave him a nod, signaling it was fine.

Once inside Deaton’s office, door closed, Deaton sat down behind his oak desk and pulled open a drawer. 

Stiles watched, intrigued, as the vet set an intricately carved rosewood box, about the size of two decks of cards in front of him. 

“When you had your tattoo done back in May, I had the artist cast a copy of the tattoo in Honduran Rosewood. I wasn’t sure why, but he offered, and I had a feeling you might need it.”

Deaton opened the box, and there lay a replica of the tattoo, etched and carved out of the wood. “Honduran Rosewood is known for having a mixture of feminine and masculine energy. It is good for bringing about change and for boosting intuitive or psychic abilities. But unlike other rosewoods, the energy of Saturn allows this wood to also block out unwanted energies in magical workings.” He handed the disc to Stiles. “In order of strength, the elements that work well with this wood are Spirit, Water, Fire, and Air. It seems a fitting balance to your very strong Earth magic.”

The back of the disc was smooth, except for etchings underneath his fingertips. The golden wood was unnaturally warm. Stiles flipped it over and saw Dagaz, the rune of transformation.

Stiles looked up at the vet puzzled.

Deaton’s mouth curled up into a slight smile. “While we’ve made light of your abilities by having you conjure cotton balls and pizza, it is imperative you recognize the weight of your power. I wasn’t sure why I chose the wood or rune when I did. But now I understand.”

Stiles looked into the druid’s eyes. He was as serious as Stiles had ever seen him.

“We need to continue training your magic. I saw the darkness rear itself when your inheritance flooded into you this morning. This talisman will help keep you centered, anchored, turned toward the light.  
Stiles opened his mouth to speak but found it unnaturally dry. He too had felt the darkness rise. He’d felt the pull of the blackness around his heart, trying to tempt him into the power of his magic. Moving around to the chair on the opposite side of the desk, he sat down heavily.

Deaton’s eyes never left his. “I’ve said this before, Stiles, but it bears repeating: you are very strong. You must guard against your emotions getting the better of you.”

“You think I could kill someone,” Stiles said flatly, only saying aloud what he too had been thinking.

“I think you could easily lose yourself until you learn control. I’m more concerned about you accidentally ‘wishing’ someone out of existence than I am of you deliberately doing so.”

Stiles felt bile rise in his throat, but he willed it away. “Can I learn control without accidentally killing someone?” He looked down, staring at the intricately cut piece of would in his hand. 

Deaton waited to answer until Stiles met his eyes. “I believe you can. You need to find an anchor. I would strongly recommend you stay away from using any negative emotions as your anchor.”

“You mean like Derek and anger.” It wasn’t really a question. Derek had been pretty open with the pack about how he’d used anger to center himself.

“I don’t think Derek has used anger as his anchor for a very long time,” Deaton said. 

“No, I suppose not.” The words were bittersweet on Stiles’ tongue. “His control is now absolute.”

“He’s had many years of practice, Stiles. And it was easier after he gave up his Alpha power.”

Stiles' head snapped up. “Can I give this power up?” Then cut Deaton off as he opened his mouth to answer. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t know. Unique situation.”

Silence hung between them for long moments, as Deaton cocked his head, eyeing Stiles speculatively. “Would you really like to give it up?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Stiles stood, the need to move around, burn off excessive energy seemed imperative. “It was just weird to hear Scott and Mason talk about me like I was a trick pony or something.” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I know that didn’t make sense, but the way they were talking about me, I suddenly felt like I was a commodity or something.”

Deaton nodded as if he understood the jumbled words that Stiles had spoken. “Was it similar to how Derek might feel about how people view and judge him based upon one attribute of his, instead of the entirety of his being?”

“Him being a werewolf?” Stiles tilted his head, considering. Now that his magic was stronger, was he too going to have to worry about people finding out?

“I meant him being easy on the eyes, Stiles,” Deaton said, his voice droll. “It has been my experience, via observation, that people tend to look at Derek’s exterior, and never look any deeper.”

Maybe, Stiles thought. He’d never stopped to think how being drop-dead good looking might have a downside. He wasn’t self-deprecating enough to think he was unattractive, but he wasn’t in Derek’s league, looks wise. 

Stiles was also honest enough to admit he’d had those sorts of thoughts about Derek when they’d first met. Then thoughts about what a terrible Alpha he was, and his complete inability to do anything except fight/kill/maim. Guilty as charged for not taking all of Derek into account and only focusing on pieces of him, not the whole. “You might have a point. I mean, I know they didn’t mean it, and they know me,” he nodded toward the door, referencing Scott and Mason. “It was just weird.”

“It is unsettling to be judged by something you have no control over,” Deaton said. Stiles shot a quick look to Deaton. They weren’t just talking about looks now. Race, gender: there were many things people have no control over. 

“These are real issues you’ll have to face. The next person you meet who finds out about your magic: will they be seeing you as a 23-year-old man, or only as a supernatural creature? Will they be drawn to you because of who you are? Or because of your magical ability?” Deaton paused. “Your magic is now another part of your identity, an integral part. You’ll have to learn to distinguish people’s intent in regard to this new facet of yourself. Your path will be more complicated now.”

Stiles blew out a breath. His head was beginning to ache. He wanted to snap out that this existential crisis around his identity wasn’t the most important thing happening right now, but instead asked, “Is this what winning the lottery is like? Or being a celebrity? You never know if it’s you or the money, fame, etc. they want?”

Deaton chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But I think you should be careful who you share this new element of your life with. In fact, the entire pack will need to be aware of people approaching them, once word gets out about your new abilities.”

“Add it to the growing list of ‘things to do’.” Stiles made air quotes with his fingers. “So, what now?” he nodded toward the talisman he’d laid back on Deaton’s desk when he’d stood up. How do I use it?”

“I don’t know,” Deaton said, causing Stiles to groan. “But I do know who might know.”

Stiles sighed. “Let me guess: The Council.”

“They might. But I sense you don’t trust them.”

Stiles put up his hands in protest. “Look, I don’t know who to trust right now. I don’t even think I trust myself. Let alone a bunch of mages from some galaxy far, far away.”

“Stiles,” Deaton began gently.

“No, seriously,” Stiles began. “Yesterday morning, I was working on a bestiary translation, impressed I’d figured out how to ‘translate’ via my hand, from the paper to the laptop, line by line. Today, I find out I can probably twinkle my nose and have a bound copy, in English, back to the pack in Wyoming, faster than I can slip this pretty piece of wood into the front pocket of my jeans.” He picked up the rosewood, still finding it warm, and slid it in his pocket. “Ta-da!”

Before Deaton could say anything, Stiles phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket and brandished it toward the vet. “See? That is Corinna from the Landers Pack. She is going to want to know how that book suddenly appeared on her desk.”

“Hey, Corinna,” he said his voice breezy as he answered the phone. “Yep. I know it’s ahead of schedule by a few weeks…...I just had some extra time and finished up the translation quicker than we planned.” He closed his eyes, thinking about his laptop at Derek’s apartment. “Yep, the soft copy should be on its way to you – oh yeah, just arrived huh…cool…Sorry to startle you with the appearance of the book. I wanted to surprise you with the bound copy. No, no. That wasn’t me.” Stiles looked sideways at Deaton, tilting his head back. “We have a powerful druid in our pack. We were exploring a couple of spells, you know. Nothing too exciting, but I thought it would be fun.” He laughed. “You guys have a great holiday, as well. I’ll send your original copy back to you…...Oh hey, looks like our friend here is still experimenting…. great, great. Glad you got them both in one piece. Take care now.” He thumbed the ‘cancel’ button.

Deaton just looked at him, eyes appraising. “While somewhat reckless, that was very impressive.”

“That was 20-30 hours of work I had left.”

Deaton nodded. “You may be able to outfit those apartments at Derek’s, Stiles.”

The flush of heat up Stiles’ neck surprised him, and he bashfully looked away. “Great. I’ll get right on that.”

“You’ll get right on that after we work on your control,” Deaton said, standing. He motioned to the door. “After you.”

 

Over the next hour, Mason and Scott tried to break Stiles’ concentration, while Deaton barked orders at him, demanding he work faster, changing small details even as Stiles was in the middle of conjuring something. Granny Smith to Red Delicious. Apple to Pear. Duplicating the rolling stools, then changing them into rocking chairs. Scott and Mason heckled from the side, sometimes jostling Stiles during the process.

Once he created a half Red Delicious, half Bosc pair. Scott said it wasn’t pretty, but it tasted good. Stiles had just groaned at him.

Deaton measured Stiles magic, monitoring for ebbing and swelling, as he continued to work. Each time his magic swelled, his speed increased, and he was able to make changes when Deaton only had half of the word out of his mouth.

“Well,” Deaton breathed. “That was impressive,” after Stiles had correctly conjured a wooden rocking chair, after Deaton had called out leather recliner, then changing his mind. He regarded Stiles closely. “How do you feel?”

Stiles irises were limned in gold. “Like a rock star,” he said. “Wait, can I turn myself into a rock star?? That would be awesome! What about a billionaire? Can I be a billionaire? What say I make us all billionaires?”

Scott and Mason started calling out their own requests, laughing along with Stiles until they noticed the vet was not laughing.

Deaton’s face had shut down. He turned to Mason and Scott. “I need to speak to Mr. Stilinski. Please wait outside.” He nodded toward the front of the clinic.

“What?” Stiles said, looking at Scott and Deaton. “It was a joke, Deaton.” As Scott and Mason left, the door closing quietly after them, Stiles sighed. “What? I’m not allowed to make a joke?”

Deaton crossed his arms in front of his chest, crossing to stand directly in front of Stiles.

Stiles inherently took a step back, crossing his own arms. 

“This is not a joke, Mr. Stilinski.” He took another step closer. “You could kill someone as easily as breathing. Your magic continues to grow, and I don’t think you’re taking it seriously.”

“Come on,” Stiles ran his hand over his mouth. “Seriously, dude? It hasn’t even been a full day.”

“You don’t have any more time! I had hoped that you’d matured more in the years you’ve been away at college –”

“Hey!” Stiles said, stepping up into Deaton’s space, cheeks flushed, confusion and shame filling him until it felt like he could taste it in his throat. “What the hell, man? That’s not fair.”

“There is no fair, here, Stiles. No joke.” The druid’s eyes were steely. “You don’t deserve this gift.”

“What?!” Stiles took a step, fear suddenly clutching his belly. “Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even want this ‘gift’.” He threw his arm out toward Deaton’s private office. “What did I say earlier? I’d give it away if I could.” His arms flailed. “You think I want this responsibility??”

Deaton stepped closer. “Do you?” He scoffed. “You certainly aren’t worthy of it. You can’t even handle the fact that your mother is back. Or that you’re in love with Derek.” He paused, and Stiles felt gut-punched.

“Stiles, how on earth do you think you can handle this magnitude of power?” His voice was dripping with condescension. “It should have never been entrusted to you.”

Stiles felt the fear melt away, replaced with cold fury. Now he crowded Deaton, his own voice cold. “And you think you’re worthy, do you?” The darkness in him pooled, surging up as if to strike. “You think you can take it away from me? You think you can take away my power? Again? That is never happening!”

His voice reverberated with the kind of power he normally thought of as coming from an Alpha. Fury burned through his veins, as he threw his hand up in the air, ready to deal Deaton a blow. His magic was like static electricity, dancing along his pores, he smelled petrichor in the air, hand raised as he contemplated what sort of blow to deliver to this moronic idiot.

Then, he heard someone call his name. It seemed so very far away. The anger in him wanted to ignore it. Yet, something, something held him from striking. 

“Stiles!” This time he heard the Alpha in Scott’s voice. Then his father’s voice: “Stiles! Stand down!”

Long moments passed, as Stiles felt forces within him clashing, one desiring nothing more than smiting the imbecile in front of him, another trembling, afraid of what was happening. He heard Derek calling to him in his head, could feel the fear and questions coming through his bond, but he was frozen, unable to speak, move, or even think clearly. 

‘Stiles, easy. Easy.’ Stiles heard in his mind.

But Derek was so far away. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what Deaton had implied. Had threatened, even. 

‘Listen to me, Stiles’ Derek’s voice in his mind was calm, soothing. ‘I can’t get there in time but listen to me. Hear my heart beating, listen to it. Use it. I know you can do this. I know you can control this.’

Little by little, Stiles focused on Derek’s pulse, the slow steady rhythm of it, remembering how he’d used it the night before to calm himself.

‘You’re doing great, Stiles. You can do it.’

Stiles felt arms on his shoulders, bodily moving him away.

‘It was a trick,’ he said. ‘He tricked me.’

‘He tested you. And you passed.’

Finally regaining control of his own body, Stiles looked up, eyes no longer seeing gold and purple. “You did that on purpose.”

Deaton bowed. “I apologize for saying what I did to you, Stiles. But we need to know if you can control your emotions.”

“I could have killed you,” Stiles said, his voice ragged. “I guess I do need to ask The Council about the talisman.” Looking around he hated the look he saw on his dad’s face. Scott’s face.

“But you didn’t,” Deaton said. He nodded toward Scott and the Sheriff. “You listened when they spoke.” He pointed at Stiles' chest, “And when Derek spoke if I’m not mistaken.”

Stiles swallowed hard, and nodded, sick at what had almost happened. He’d been a hairsbreadth away from harming Deaton. And he had no idea what that much magic would do to his mentor.

“You must find an anchor, Stiles.” Deaton continued. “And you must have a strong moral compass.” He looked meaningfully at the others in the room. “I think your pack will keep you strong. You have great respect for your father. That is the second time, he has issued a command, and you’ve followed it. Scott is your Alpha and has been like a brother to you most of your life. There is a bond there which your magic respects. It is these bonds with your humanity, that will help keep you, and others around you, safe from your magic.”

Stiles sat down heavily on one of the chairs he’d conjured earlier. He couldn’t even look at his dad or Scott. Until the nogitsune he had always believed in his own moral compass. Afterward? Not so much. And now, with only the inkling of what he could do with his newfound abilities? He was scared.

‘Be cautious,’ Derek’s voice said. ‘We’ll get through this.’

Finally, Stiles looked up, weary like he hadn’t been since the months after the nogitsune. “Why are you here, dad?” He looked past him. “And mom?”

There was on awkward silence for a moment, then his mom spoke up. “We were on our way home. After shopping, remember?”

Rubbing his forehead, Stiles tried to think. “Right. Okay.”

“We were planning to do some additional training this afternoon at home, but maybe we shouldn’t?” Claudia turned to Deaton.

Deaton moved over to Stiles and stuck out his hand as if to shake.

Stiles took it, and Deaton pulled him to standing. “How are you feeling, Stiles?”

“Exhausted,” he said. “At least emotionally. Physically, I’m tired but fine.” He stumbled as Deaton pulled him in for a hug.

“I didn’t mean a word I said, Stiles. Except for the part about your mom and Derek.” He pulled back and looked him directly in the eyes. “That, I meant.” He stepped back and addressed Claudia. “Get him home. See how he feels. I suspect he’ll perk up once he sees your studio.” His lips turned up in amusement.

“Studio?” Stiles asked. “What studio?” Looking between his mom and dad, his dad shrugged, pantomiming, an ‘I-know-nothing’ look and not happy about it.


	9. Talia

After the Stilinski contingency left, she noticed David, walking around touching various things. He settled at the same pictures where Talia had stood last night. “All gone?” His voice was raw with emotion.

“All but Derek and Cora,” Talia walked over to him, placed her hand on his arm, as she had a thousand times before. 

“How did they survive such a cataclysmic loss?”

Talia remained silent. What could she say? It was the question that kept rolling around in her head. She wondered about Cora. Maybe they should have The Council give them her history before Cora arrived. 

From what Derek told her, Cora had gotten help from The Laren pack in San Andreas. Hearing about the fire, they had come to help, and found Cora, somewhat feral, in the woods. Once they heard rumors of the Argents involvement, they quietly moved her to South America, where she currently resided. Talia wondered if she would come home again.

Elysia called to them from the doorway. “Before we provide David with Derek’s history, we’d like to further discuss logistics on how your return will impact others.”

Once everyone was seated in Talia’s office, including Derek, who was still visibly uncomfortable, Elysia began.

“We’d recommend you order pizza for lunch.”

A sharp laugh escaped Talia. “What?” She looked at David and Derek and then back to The Council. “I don’t understand.”

“That would be the best way to help you understand what we’re doing to assist in your reintegration.” 

Elysia went on to explain that they had attached a sort of charm to their names. When people spoke to them, encountering them again after so long, it would subtly create a sense of ease. As if they’d been here all along.

“Further,” she continued. “Your finances, utilities, medical records, school records etc., have been amended as if you’d never been gone.”

“What about the police records and insurance claim from the fire?” Derek asked.

“Those too have been handled. There was no fire, there were no claims.” Elysia smiled. “However, we have left the insurance funds, as the smallest token of our apology.”

“I don’t want the money,” he nearly growled. He turned to his parents. “I’ve never wanted that damned money.”

“Derek,” Talia tried to sooth. But he just looked away, staring down at the tabletop.

Talia turned to The Council. “Thank you for the kindness. We’ll use the money for the twins’ college fund.” She saw the line of Derek’s shoulders soften and decided to count it as a win.

“Now please, order pizza for lunch.”

“Well I for one, am starving,” David said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, to pull out his wallet. He took out a credit card and then squinted at the card. “What year did you say this is? This card is good through 2020.” He looked impressed. He turned to Derek. Large meat lovers, all the way, right?”

Talia was pleased when Derek looked up and nodded.

“What about you, honey?” David asked. “What do you want?” His eyes were glinting with teasing.

She just raised her eyebrow, knowing one meat lovers was more than enough pizza for the three of them. However. “Just order a supreme, and pepperoni, as well. I get the feeling the house will be full again soon enough.”

While they waited for the pizza, Tormund and Terra provided the upload of events from Cora and Derek to David, and Cora to Talia. Derek had excused himself, and once The Council was finished, and Talia saw David’s face, she was glad her son had stepped outside. 

After The Council left the room, Talia found herself wrapped in her husband’s arms as he cried. And with his tears, a dam broke in Talia, and she allowed herself to grieve for not only the loss of most of her family but also for the pain her living children had suffered.

Cora’s passage to South America had ended with her in a loving pack, so at least she’d had more stability as she grew up than Laura and Derek had. Still, it hurt her deeply to know her young daughter had grown up without any member of her own family, her own pack. 

“How did we not know?” David asked. “How did we miss Kate Argent?”

“I don’t know,” Talia said, her heartbreaking, and guilt almost closing her throat. She looked away, swamped with failure.

“Hey,” David said, gently rocking her. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said inside her head. ‘This isn’t your fault.’

“It is exactly my fault,” Talia said aloud, her voice cracking. “I’m his Alpha, the pack’s Alpha.” She looked up into his eyes. “This is completely my responsibility.”

David pulled her to him, tucking his head on her shoulder. Yet he said no more. He knew that insofar as Pack dynamics went, responsibility did fall squarely on her shoulders. And yet. ‘This helps no one, Talia.’ He pulled back and looked into her eyes again. ‘We will get through this. God knows Derek has already survived. We’ll need to talk about this. _I’ll_ need to talk about this. But I don’t want you to think I’m blaming you every time it comes up. Because I’m not.’

‘I know.’ Her voice sounded weak in her own mind. ‘She stole his innocence and then murdered his family.’

‘He must be a hella good man to have survived that.’

‘He doesn’t think he is,’ Talia responded, enjoying the feeling of David back in her arms.

‘We’ll have to work on that then, won’t we?’

The sound of a car turning off the road caused Talia to pull away, resting her forehead against David’s. “The pizza is here.” She stood, straightening herself, sorry for the physical loss of her mate. But she wiped her eyes. “I’ll get it.” 

Opening the door, she saw Derek, was already there.

“Hey, Deputy,” the early 20-something mail delivering the pizza greeted. “Mrs. Hale.” 

She stopped, barely keeping her mouth dropping in surprise, realizing this was what The Council meant. This young man seemed to think nothing of driving to what had only yesterday been a burned-out husk of a house. She’d seen it in Derek’s event line. And the delivery person spoke to her as if he’d delivered pizza before, even though he couldn’t have possibly. He was too young. She smiled and took the pizzas he pulled out of a bag, as Derek pulled out money to tip the driver.

When she turned into the house, The Council was standing in the hallway, David in the doorway to her office.

“We’re going to leave you for now,” Elysia said. “Please call us when you’re ready to discuss next steps.”

Before Talia could open her mouth to respond, they were gone.

“I take it they don’t like pizza?” David asked, moving forward to snag the pizza, then turning toward the kitchen. “I pray there is a beer in that fridge.”

Talia watched him, his composure seemingly restored.

“I think I saw some. I’ll look.” Derek said, brushing past her as he followed his dad.

Talia was both surprised and pleased to see him make the offer. One of David’s innate abilities was to make people comfortable. It was something she’d relied on for years whether they were dealing with territory issues with other packs, or a frazzled school principal wanting to discuss how a scrawny 14-year-old Laura had somehow managed to lay out a 200-lb. football player in the lunchroom.

 

She stood back, watching the two men interact. While Derek might look like her, his build was his father’s all over. It almost took her breath away to see them this way: moving instinctually around one another in the kitchen as they pulled out plates, napkins, glasses, and drinks, piling them on the island, where they appeared happy to eat. 

It reminded her of easy times when they’d share a late-night snack with one of the older kids after the younger were down for the night.

“Did I hear the delivery boy call you ‘Deputy’?” David asked after they were seated and had served themselves.

“Yes sir,” Derek said. “I became a deputy of Beacon County a couple of years ago. 

“Do you like it?” David asked, then taking a large bite of pizza

Derek nodded. Talia watched as the mask Derek had been wearing since she’d gotten back, slipped a little as he told them stories about being on the force, how the Sheriff had welcomed him, glad to have a werewolf on the force to help with the supernatural cases. He looked down at his hands. “He’s been very good to me.” 

“I’m glad,” Talia said. “I always thought he was a fair man. Though it seems like you had a couple of run-in with him early on?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “That was mainly through several misunderstandings. Mostly due to Stiles and Scott.”

Talia took another bite of pizza, then set it down before asking, “What kind of Alpha is Scott?” 

Derek straightened his shoulders, more formal, but still more relaxed that he had been before David had returned. “As you both probably now know, Scott is a True Alpha. He bends over backward to try and save everyone.”

Talia heard an unspoken ‘but’ there. However, she was pleased when her son didn’t speak ill of his Alpha.

“After Peter –” Derek broke off, cleared his throat and then went on, “became the Alpha, he bit Scott,” 

“That is very rare for a bitten wolf to become a True Alpha,” David said, a frown on his face. “Does that mean he has no real background with having a pack, or what that means?”

“Correct,” Derek said. “And I didn’t do a very good job of showing him how to be an Alpha, and what being pack, or having a pack, meant.”

Talia’s heart ached for her son. She reached across the table, counting it a win when he didn’t pull away from the hand she placed over his. “Do you have any insight that you can share about what Scott wants to do about his pack, loosely knit as they seem to be?”

“I really don’t.” Derek looked up, his mouth in a rueful grin. “We haven’t exactly had a lot of time to confer.” 

Talia conceded the point, matching Derek’s smile. 

Derek ran a hand over his face. “When he asked what you were going to do, I took the liberty of assuming you wouldn’t run his pack out of town.”

“Of course not,” Talia assured. “What about your betas? The ones you turned? Any idea if they’ll want to be turned if the decision we make brings them back as human?”

Derek flinched. “I, uh, really don’t. I mean, apart from Erica.” Derek explained about Erica’s epilepsy. He talked about how she and Boyd had decided to leave when the Alpha Pack had kidnapped them.

Talia’s blood pressure rose thinking of what she’d do if she ever saw Deucalion again. Dead or not, he should have known better than to harm her cub. 

Derek ducked his head and then quietly said, “I’ll be grateful to have Boyd back. He and Paige are the deaths that hang over me.”

“Oh honey,” Talia said. It was all she could do to not move to him and pull him into her arms.

They listened as Derek explained how his and Scott’s had worked, or not worked before Derek gave up his Alpha abilities. It seemed Stiles Stilinski was once again at the center of any attempt to bridge the gap between Derek and Scott in the early years. 

They cleared their dishes and then Derek asked, “Are we going to talk about Peter?”

“He does seem to be the lynchpin, doesn’t he?” David said. “Do you know how to reach him?” David asked.

Pulling out his cell phone, Derek affirmed, “I do.”

David eyed the phone, and then looked speculatively at the impressive display of phones on the kitchen cabinet. “I suspect I’m really going to enjoy the new technology.”

“Yes, dad, you will.”

David beamed at his oldest son. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that since I’ve been back.”

Flushing, Derek ducked his head. “It’s, uh, a little unsettling, you know?” He looked up. “I used to dream that you were still alive. Everyone was alive. Then I’d wake up, and the loss would gut me all over again.”

David slung his arm over Derek’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, son. But it is going to get better. I promise.”

Talia swallowed against thick emotion and wondered how long it would take to get to know her son and her daughter. She forced down the anger she felt at the years she missed with her children.

“Peter?” Talia asked, not really wanting to wreck the moment, but also cognizant that now probably wasn’t the time to get too mired down in the overwhelming emotions everyone was feeling. She could sense the thrum of it under her skin: her link to her mate, and her son synched up with her own emotional frailty. It would be best to continue working on what lay ahead.

“Ready?” Derek asked, after thumbing his way down the screen, David practically hanging over his shoulder, drinking in the new technology. Peter’s name was on the screen.

“Let me speak to him,” Talia said, wondering if her brother would still respond to her as his Alpha. 

The phone connected after two rings. “Derek, to what do I owe this honor?”

Talia stiffened. The voice she heard was and wasn’t her brother. It was older, world-weary, and very cynical. “Peter. It’s Talia.”

There was a long moment of silence before Peter growled. “I don’t know what the fuck you are playing at, but my sister has been dead for a very long time. Now: what the _hell_ have you done with my nephew?”

“I’m here,” Derek said. 

“As am I,” David piped in as if he’d only spoken to Peter last week. 

“We need to talk to you, Peter,” Talia said.

“You need to come home,” Derek put in. “We’ve had an incident here in Beacon Hills.” Derek’s voice was as dry as sawdust.

Again, a long pause before Peter spoke. “Evidently.”

Talia heard his sigh.

“I can be there tomorrow morning. Where shall we meet?”

“The house.” Talia calculated him seeing his rooms where he Emily and their daughter had lived would have an impact.

“Fabulous,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll assume that too was part of the ‘incident’.”

“Yes,” Derek spoke up. “The house was part of the ‘incident’.”

“Derek, as ever, you are economical with your words,” Peter said. He paused before adding, “Can’t wait,”

Talia was convinced she could hear him roll his eyes, and yet. There was hesitance there, an undercurrent of fear.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Peter,” she said, putting some Alpha in her voice.

He chuckled. “That lost its impact on me a hundred years ago, sister dear. But I’ll see you tomorrow morning. It will be nice to have the gang back together again. Ciao.”

The phone disconnected.

David frowned. “He didn’t seem that shocked that we were back.”

Talia and Derek shook their heads in tandem. “He’s unnerved,” Talia said. “But, as always, he hides it well. I daresay it won’t be that easy for him.”

“Agreed,” Derek said. He opened his mouth, as if to say more, but then hissed, his body arcing forward as if he’d been electrocuted. “Stiles –” 

“Derek?” Talia reached to touch him, shocked that she could physically feel a blaze of fury and unfettered magic flowing through her son.

“He’s in trouble,” Derek ground out, muscles in his neck clenched. Talia reached for the pain, pulling it out. Derek’s eyes focused on something she couldn’t see, and she suspected he was talking telepathically to Stiles.

It seemed like an eternity before his shoulders caved in, his body finally relaxing. She felt the shudder of his body, as she eased back from pulling the sensation from him. “What happened?” she asked.

Breathing heavy, it took Derek a few minutes more to answer. “Deaton. He tested Stiles.”

“Did he pass?” David’s voice was skeptical, his eyes full of concern for their son.

“He did,” Derek confirmed, slumping down onto the granite. Talia let her hands fall away.

David looked so quizzical, that Talia gave him a quick rundown of how Claudia’s son had just come into his magical inheritance, presumably due to their return. 

“And he’s very powerful?” David asked.

“Yes,” Talia answered. “Alan and Claudia said they’ve never known of anyone so powerful.”

David swung around to Derek. “And he’s connected to you?”

Derek filled David in on the events surrounding the Nematon, and how they’d tied wards between him, Scott and Stiles.

Talia noticed he left out the part that his bond with Stiles was significantly stronger than either of theirs to Scott. 

“Telepathy, huh?” David shook his head. “Today just gets stranger and stranger.”

Derek nodded his agreement and it seemed like a good time time to talk about how to handle the reintroduction of Bobby and the twins. To the 3-yr-olds, it was probably an easy transition. Bobby, their only human child, was 14 when they died. Not an easy age to begin with. Now he’d be the next to the youngest of the siblings, his once younger sister, Cora, now older. 

No one spoke about what would become of Laura. It was too painful for she and David to consider, and Derek didn’t bring it up. Still, she couldn’t help but rearrange Laura’s birth order as well. If she returned to them, she’d now be third in line. Talia smiled to herself. She didn’t think Laura would take that well. 

“What time does the remainder of Scott’s pack and Cora arrive?”

Derek pulled out his phone and checked his texts. “The first group gets in this evening.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “That includes Chris Argent. I’m going to meet him at his apartment. Let him know what is happening.”

“You trust him now?” David asked. Talia felt his concern through their bond, even though they’d both seen via the ‘downloads’ his involvement in Derek’s life.

“I do,” Derek said, heart and eyes steady. “He has been tremendously helpful to both me and Scott throughout the years. Let’s just say, he got us out of a few scrapes, many of which could have been fatal. Chris isn’t like his father and Kate.” 

Talia had to force her claws to lie dormant, her heart rate speeding up at the mention of Kate Argent.

“Son,” David began. “About Kate –” 

“Dad,” Derek cut in. “It’s been so long ago now. You just found out today. To me, it was 12, 13 years ago.”

“But have you healed?” Talia, couldn’t help but ask. “Do you understand she abused you? She –”

“– Mother,” Derek cut her off. “Yes. I know she broke the law. I know a teenager isn’t judged able to give consent to an adult.”

“You were only 15!”

“And now, I’m almost 30,” he said, finality. “It’s an old wound to me.”

Talia closed her eyes, unable to bear the resignation in her son’s eyes. Finally, she opened them. “Derek,” she began. “I’m so sorry. I should have seen, as your Alpha, yes, but as your mother? I can’t –” Talia broke off, overcome

David moved behind her, his hand on her waist. “Your mother is right, son. It may have been over a decade ago for you, but to us, you’re still our 15-year-old son. And we just found out he was molested, right under our own noses. Your mother and I are going to need time.”

A chuckle escaped Derek, and even he looked surprised. “Well, I didn’t expect that reaction.”

Talia blinked back tears and managed a fragile smile. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw David had relaxed as well. 

“What reaction did you expect?” David asked.

Derek sighed. “It’s hard to believe you don’t blame me for your deaths. For the deaths of everyone.”

“Derek,” Talia began and then had to look away. “You were a child. You were duped by an adult who was warped beyond belief.”

“No one could have predicted she would harm us,” David said.

“Are you well, Derek?” Talia asked. “Did you seek help afterward? With any of the losses you’ve faced?”

Derek nodded. “I did. Though probably not as quickly as you would have liked.” He looked away for a moment. “That was one of the Sheriff’s requirements before he’d write me a letter of recommendation for the academy. Deaton had a name of a counselor who I saw for several years.” He looked rueful. “I get the feeling, I may need her again.”

“So may we all,” Talia said, as serious as she’d ever been.

Silence hung between them for a moment before David brightened and then changed the topic. “Are you seeing anyone now, romantically? Do we have any grandchildren?”

“No!” Derek said, his voice exploding like a shot, looking askance at them both. “I know you know about Kate and Jennifer. My relationships haven’t turned out well. And no grandchildren, that I’m aware of. There is no one.”

“That was several years ago, right? Jennifer, I mean?” David asked. Talia felt his concern again through the bond. “That’s a long time to be alone, son.”

Derek sighed. “I didn’t say I’d been alone that entire time.” Derek scratched the back of his head. “Man, this is as awkward as our first sex talk when I was twelve. Except I don’t think mom was present for it.”

David laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll stop with the third degree.” He reached over and patted Derek’s shoulder. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy. I have a job I love, good friends, and now I’ve got my parents back.”

“What about Stiles?” Talia asked. She knew what she was seeing between them and given Derek’s vehement denial of there being anyone, she wondered what she was missing.

A stain of color in Derek’s cheeks answered her question before he could even formulate an answer.

David looked at her, surprise on his face. “Stiles?”

Sighing, Derek hunched his shoulders. He licked his lips like he was buying himself time. “Stiles was a child when I met him. A really annoying child.”

“But he’s not any longer,” Talia pointed out. “And I may have been out of your life for twelve years, but you still can’t hide anything from your mother.”

Derek huffed a laugh. “No, I guess not.”

David slapped the granite, “Now it’s getting interesting!”

“Dad!” Derek groaned. “Really?”

And suddenly, for Talia, it really _was_ just like yesterday, and she pounced on the feeling of normality: her and David trying to get answers out of their teen-aged son about his life. Derek objecting. But this time he didn’t storm off to his room.

Derek let out a sigh. “Something changed when Stiles hooked up the house and the Nematon to the three of us.” He looked at David. “You haven’t met Scott yet. He’s our…Alpha.” Swallowing, he looked so uncomfortable, Talia felt sorry for him.

“Anyway, after he tied the wards to our tattoos, my tie to Stiles seemed stronger than my one to Scott.”

“Is that when you realized you had feelings for him?” Talia asked.

“Uh, no.” Now he flushed even brighter red. “I knew from almost the moment I met him.”

David grinned as if delighted that Derek had such strong feelings early on.

“But he was a _child,_ ” Derek insisted, countering his Dad’s excitement. “He was barely sixteen.”

In the pause, Talia felt the importance of what Derek was saying. ‘Barely sixteen’ she heard through her bond with David. ‘Almost the same age as he’d been,’ she responded.  
Scratching his chin, David said, “But son, that was a few years ago, right? What’s the hold-up?”

Derek let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know: he needed to graduate from high school? Go to college? Now his dad is my boss? He’s planning on working there too soon? Pick one.”

David reached over, clapping hard on Derek’s back. “I don’t know, Derek. These sound like a bunch of excuses to me.”

“They really do,” Talia said. “Claudia and I were discussing you two this morning. We can see that there is something between you. Notice I said, ‘between you’ not ‘one-sided’.”

Derek groaned as David said, “See? If your mom has figured it out in less than 24-hours, I only have one piece of advice for you, son: Man up.” He sobered. “Life is too short and uncertain for regrets.


	10. Chapter 10

For the first time since he was a kid, Stiles got into the back seat of his dad’s SUV, letting his mother take his normal place at shotgun.

His mom and Deaton had holed themselves up in Deaton’s office, while his Dad had snuck a couple of pieces of pizza, which Stiles had graciously let slide, given the whole: my-wife-is-back-from-the-dead-and-my-son-is-a-powerful-magic-freak-thing.

He’d followed his parents, as they exited the animal clinic, his dad, deferring to his mom, his hand on the small of her back, touching a woman in a way Stiles could never remember seeing before. 

In the car, he saw them catching each other’s eye and then turning away quickly, a pink blush on his mother’s cheeks, and the back of his dad’s neck bright red. 

He was so spending the night at Derek’s. No way in hell was he going to stick around for the reunion sex he was confident would be happening before too long.

Scott was going to join them at The Stilinski abode within the hour. He had a couple of things to finish up at the clinic, but Deaton had wanted him to be available while his mother was testing Stiles’ magic in case, something triggered him and his magic again. 

He helped his parents unload the SUV. And yes, it appeared his mother had bought out the entire mall and then the supermarket before they’d arrived at the clinic.

He and his dad put away the groceries, while his mom took her purchases upstairs.

Craning his neck to make sure she was safely upstairs, Stiles just couldn’t resist. “So…need me to bunk elsewhere tonight, Daddy-o?”

“Stiles!” A bag of chips, which shouldn’t have been purchased in the first place, slipped out of his dad’s hands and landed on the floor with a satisfying thud.

Stiles opened his eyes wide, making with the Bambi-eyes. “What? We’re both adults. Well, all three of us, actually.”

“Drop it,” his dad warned.

“I guess you got over whatever qualms you had this morning about your age difference, huh?”

“Stiles.” 

Normally, Stiles would have taken the warning, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. “It’s cool,” he continued needling. “I mean, what’s a little 15-year age difference amongst friends? I just remember when I was in high school and had a crush on a certain someone who was only five years older than me. You weren’t so okay with it then.”

“I swear to God, kid, I will kill you.”

“You might try,” Stiles teased. He reached down, scooping up the chip bag, casually crushing them just a teeny bit more before handing them over. “Maybe you should have forgone these and picked up strawberries, whipped cream, and oysters!”

Stiles laughed and sidestepped as his father took a swipe at him. He conceded. “All right, all right. I’ll stop. BUT, I will make myself scarce this evening.”

His dad was beet red but looked appreciative of the offer. “Then get out of here, and pack. Your mom will be ready to do more training with you before long.”

 

Stiles stood in the doorway of his mother’s old sewing and craft room, what had been their spare junk room since she died. There was an old white wicker chair and a small table that sat by the window, the floral cushion faded so badly Stiles couldn’t even make out the pattern. The old singer sewing machine from the 1970’s had a dust cover over it. There were piles of fabric still sitting in cubbyholes on the wall, where they’d been when she’d fallen too sick to sew. Packed around the room were boxes of no longer used items that both he and his dad kept saying they were planning to go through, donate or trash. And yet, here they sat. He knew if he dug around a bit he’d find art supplies and crafting material left over from when his mom had taught school.

It was so not a sewing and craft room. 

His mom showed him where the black obsidian stones were placed in the bookcase next to the cubbyholes of fabric. She ran her fingers over them in a very precise pattern and the room expanded. It was like walking into the Weasley’s tent in the fourth Harry Potter movie.

“How the hell did we not move those stones?” He was just shocked. “How did we not find this?”

“The stones are meant to conceal themselves.” She looked pleased that her studio was essentially untouched. “Had you moved everything out of this room, then chances are you’d have moved the stones, which might have revealed the room to you.” She looked at him, her gaze fond. “Unlike you, I can’t craft such a complex ward that would have allowed the room to secret itself away if they’d been moved. Had the stones been removed, you guys would have been in for a shock.”

Stiles stared at the walls of books he had no idea were in his house. Back in the day, he'd had to beg and scrounge for every supernatural text he could get his hands on. It defied belief that all this time he'd had a library next door to his bedroom. He moved closer, running his hands over the shelves, taking in the titles. He turned back to his mom. “I’d have given anything to have access to these in high school.” He swallowed hard. “It was a nightmare after Scott was bitten.”

His mom moved close but seemed to catch herself before embracing him. Stiles moved forward, closing the space between them, his arms going around her. “Mom,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles.” His mom held him tight, her arms around his waist and up onto his shoulder blades. “My son. I can’t believe you’re grown. I can’t believe I missed so much of your life.” She was choking up now, and Stiles felt tears tracking down his own face.

“It’s okay,” he said, even though he knew it wasn’t. The years they’d had stolen from them could never be replaced. He felt a soft query from Derek. ‘Just family stuff. I’m fine.’

‘Gotcha. Just had my dad question me about my sex life. In front of my mom.’

Stiles snorted, and Claudia pulled away, looking at him, a question in her eyes.

“Sorry, mom,” Stiles said. “Derek, was uh, just making sure I was okay. Apparently, his parents want to know about his ‘relationship status.’”

Claudia moved away and then cleared her tears with her fingers. “That seems like a good segue,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Are you involved with someone special?”

Stiles groaned. “Yeah, about that. The biggest thing you need to know is,” he paused. 

It had been so much easier to confirm his bisexuality with his dad, than his mom. Dad had just kinda been there, experienced it with him. “I’m decidedly bisexual.” He waited, bracing himself for the inevitable ‘does that mean you’re really gay and are afraid to commit’ question that always seemed to come up.

“Okay,” she said, seeming to sense his discomfort. “I’ll ask again: anyone in your life I’m going to meet soon?”

“That’s it?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask.

She looked taken aback, a little hurt. “Stiles. I love you. I couldn’t care less what gender you sleep with, so long as you’re happy.” Her face darkened. “Why? Did your dad not take it well?”

Stiles barked a laugh. “No, no, no,” he broke off when he saw her horrified look. “Wait! No, I mean, Dad was cool. He once told me I couldn’t be gay because I dressed like a slob.” 

“Oh no!” she said, chuckling.

“He might have been right,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “But to your other question. I’m not involved with anyone, right now.” He wondered how to explain to his mom that these days there was less ‘involved’ and more of a ‘hook up’ culture. Inwardly shuddering, he decided someone else could explain it.

She gave him a funny look but pulled him back into a hug. “I love you, Stiles. Find someone who makes you happy and healthy, and I’ll love them too. Now, are you feeling up to some more work?”

 

Deaton had been correct: as tired and conflicted as Stiles had been upon leaving the vet clinic, seeing his mom’s studio, reenergized him. She had him replicate a couple of items in her studio, just as Deaton had. Then they moved on to creating things that were not in the room with far less specificity than what Deaton had provided. 

“The idea is that you have to decide what an object looks like, as well as conjure it. It takes more magic and more control.” She paused. “In a ‘normal’ student, I’d also warn that the magic to create something from nothing is very physically draining, but so far, that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

Stiles had no idea how much time had passed as his mother called out objects, and he made them appear. When the room was getting crowded, she called out an object, and he willed it away. After a couple of mishaps where he wished away not only the basketball but also the bar of soap sitting next to it, or in one case, where he tried to wish away a 2-liter bottle of coke, and only the bottle disappeared, and not the soda inside, Claudia cleaned up the mess with a quick cleaning charm. Stiles blinked. His life had seriously turned into Harry Potter. 

They’d stopped, and she’d taught him the charm, but then told him he really shouldn’t need it. 

After another mishap where the wrapper off a bar of soap disappeared but the soap itself remained, Stiles groaned. “Why is making stuff go away harder than making it appear?” 

Claudia smiled. “It’s a matter of control, honey.” 

They continued working on containers with things inside: a glass of juice, a bottle of liquid laundry soap, and a bottle of wine, until Stiles’ skills were perfect, even as she called out two things at a time, doubling up on things appearing and disappearing. 

As they worked, his mother talked through the importance of a pure heart, and how Stiles would have to be ever vigilant of his intent, when performing magic. Claudia recited the Wiccan Rede, and they discussed the Law of Threefold Return. These were things Deaton had covered with him, but he’d never thought they could literally be talking about his ability to grant life or death.

“I get that it would be easy to kill someone,” Stiles said, and then took a deep breath, blowing it out. “Wow. It didn’t sound that stark in my head.” He shuddered. This was scary shit.

Claudia touched his arm. “Don’t worry. This is a little hard to take in.”

“Christ mom, I could really kill someone by accident!” 

She pulled him close, putting her hand on the back of his neck. “Listen to me, Stiles. You will learn to control it. It’s like Alan said, you have a very strong bond with your Alpha, with Derek, with your Dad. They, and I will be there to help you.”

He sagged down into a wicker chair in front of her desk. “This is crazy.”

“Alan said he gave you a rosewood talisman.”

Digging into his pocket, Stiles pulled out the warm wood. 

“Again, if you were a normal student I’d tell you to spend time with it daily. Treat it like you would a mantra: focus your energy on it, and allow yourself to soak up the properties of the rosewood. Beyond the magical benefits, rosewood is a very stable wood. The Universe often responds with like. Where your focus is, the Universe provides you with sameness. It can help you with stability when your magic is rising.”

He must have had a quizzical look on his face because she laughed and said. “I think this is enough for the day, honey.” She patted his shoulder. “It’s getting late.”

“It is?” Stiles pulled out his phone and saw he’d missed a message from Derek telling him he was on his way to see Chris. Apparently, The Council would meet him there. That had been over an hour ago. And his mom was right: it was almost 6 pm.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Claudia said, on her way out the door.

During training, Stiles had heard Scott come in, but he’d stayed downstairs with his dad. He knew he’d be up soon. 

Stiles went to the bookshelf, once again greedy to get his hands on all the knowledge represented in these floor to ceiling shelves. It was like Christmas. Which, come to think, wasn’t that far away. In the end, he settled on two books about magic that he’d never seen before, leaving at least 50 other texts on that subject alone on the shelves. 

Back in his room, he started pulling stuff together to stuff in his old lacrosse bag.

Scott knocked on the door jamb, holding out a bottle of water. “How you holding up?”

Stiles set the books carefully on his bed, then reached for the 20-oz bottle. He hadn’t realized he was parched until he sucked down 2/3 of the bottle before pausing. “Dude, you gotta see this.” Sidling past Scott, he motioned for him to come on, leading him into his mom’s studio.

“Whoa!” Scott’s eyes were shining. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Holy Harry Potter!”

“I know, right?” Stiles said, pleased to have someone to share this experience with.

Scott moved inside. “This is whack. Jeez, your mom has way more stuff than Deaton.” He used his fingertip to run through a shelf of books.

“Or at least more stuff that we’ve ever seen at the clinic,” Stiles amended. He’d always suspected Deaton was holding out on them. 

Scott just nodded, moving around the room, careful as he approached the altar, no dust on the chalice, candles or the small dagger on the altar. He turned to Stiles. “And you don’t need any of this? No spells, herbs, runes?”

“Apparently not.” Stiles sighed. “Come on, Scott. Stop looking at me that way.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. I need some serious comfort food and then…” He trailed off, as he left the room, confident that Scott was following behind.

“And then what?” Scott asked, trailing behind.

Back in his own room, Stiles crossed to his closet, opening it, stepping inside, and digging way back in the back. He pulled out some seriously skinny jeans, and a shirt that was tight in freshman year in college, and while he’d never be Derek-level ripped, he’d spent the past few years bulking up. A suede jacket and a pair of boots would complete his ensemble.

“You wanna get laid,” Scott said, eyeing the stuff in Stiles' hands. “And dude, I can’t believe you have a pair of Chelsea boots.”

“Lydia,” Stiles said, figuring that said it all. “You coming with?”

Scott grinned. “Sure. Which club are we heading to? Cause `I’m not holding your jacket once you get overheated.”

Stiles pulled off his t-shirt and hoodie with one easy movement. “Then we’re going to The Jungle. The girls will hold my jacket since you’re going to be a shitty wingman.”

“Shut up,” Scott said. “Put your crap in the bag. We’ll go grab burgers then head back over to my place to get ready.

“Maybe play some video games for old times’ sake?” Stiles pleaded with his eyes.

“Sure, why not?” 

Scott was the best friend ever.

“Does Derek know you’re going out trolling tonight?”

Or maybe not the best friend ever. Stiles hung his head. “Why would he know? Why would he care?”

Scott just rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles bag. “Let’s go. Your parents are starting to weird me out.” 

“Tell me about it,” Stiles agreed, thumping Scott on his back. “I don’t think I’m the only one looking to get laid tonight.”

“Ewwww!” Scott almost tripped, and Stiles laughed at him.

On their way out the door, Stiles told his parents not to wait up for him. He doubled back to the kitchen and conjured a bottle of his dad’s favorite champagne, strawberries, and whipped cream into the fridge.

“Nice,” Scott said from behind him. “You’re the best wingman ever.”

 

They’d just gotten to Scott’s house, greasy bags of burgers and curly fries in tow when Stiles phone rang. “Yo big guy, what’s up?”

Stiles listened while Derek told him he’d just left Chris’ apartment. He’d been as taken aback as everyone else as The Council had explained the situation.

“Is Allison back?” Scott asked, eavesdropping on the call. Stiles just rolled his eyes and put the phone on speaker alerting Derek.

“Not yet,” Derek said. “He, uh, wants time to think about what to do about Allison’s mom.”

“Ouch.” Stiles winced. “Harsh.”

“I probably shouldn’t have told you that part.”

Stiles looked at Scott to share a smirk. The concern he saw on his friend’s face caused him to do a double take. “What’s up, Scotty?”

Scott shook his head.

“Where are you two?” Derek asked.

“At Scott’s.” Stiles reached into the bag, pulling out a fry. “I’d invite you over but we’re gonna eat and play video games before we go out.”

“Where are you going?”

“The Jungle.” Stuffing the fry into his mouth, it took him a minute to realize Derek was silent. “Hey, you there?”

“I am.” His voice was flat. “Why are you going there?”

Scott threw him an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. Stiles threw up his hands and silently mouthed ‘What?’

“Well, I’m not going there to dance,” Stiles said. “Why? You wanna go with? We can go to Sinema if you want. More of a mixed crowd, if you’re looking for some fun.”

Scott is miming for Stiles to shut up, his hand making a quick slice across his throat.”

“No,” Derek finally answered. “You guys go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

The line went dead, and Stiles once again dipped into the curly fries.

Scott shook his head. “Don’t ever talk about me being oblivious again, dude.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Oh my God, Scott! Seriously? Listen to me: Derek isn’t gay. He isn’t even bi.”

“You know this?” Scott was leaning on the back of one of the dining room chairs, his eyes as intense as Stiles had ever seen them.

“I think it would have come up at some point, don’t you?” Stiles was unpacking the sack, handing Scott his two burgers and fries. “And even if he is, Derek doesn’t want me. Trust me when I tell you, he’s had ample opportunity to hook up with me. Never even crossed his mind.”

Thankfully, Scott let the topic drop, and they plowed through their food, before firing up Halo, their favorite game from high school. It had been a while since they played, and both were a little rusty at first. Game after game, they were well matched, eye-hand coordination coming back as the evening wore on.

“It’s after 11,” Stiles said, checking his phone.

“Great,” Scott said, taking the controller from Stiles. “This was fun.”

“Yep, totally needed it.” Stiles stood, stretching the kink out of his back and neck. “Now, let’s go get ready. I seriously deserve some hot sex tonight.”

“But you’re coming home with me, right?” Scott asked, eyes serious. “Keep your ‘hot sex’ on the premises.”

“Killjoy,” Stiles said, heading for the stairs. “But fair enough.”

 

It was late enough, that there wasn’t a long wait at the door. Within minutes Stiles was knocking back shots of tequila, and laughing with Phoenix and Danielle, while they ruffled his hair, and shoved up the sleeves of his already too tight t-shirt. “Now get out there and get laid,” Phoenix said, kissing him soundly. “To pump up your lips, honey-bunny.”

“Maybe I should stay here,” he almost purred, his hands reaching down to squeeze her curvaceous ass.

“Get out there, you tease,” she said, pushing him away. “You are gonna break hearts tonight, sweetie!”

Laughing, Stiles let himself be flung into the crowd, enjoying the sensation of the bodies surrounding him, undulating with and against him. The smell of fresh sweat and expensive cologne which he breathed in deep allowed Stiles to forget about the last two days and just get lost in the grinding beat of the music. 

Through many college nights spent at dance clubs, he’d finally learned to stop being self-conscious and let the rhythm take him. He opened his eyes when he felt a hand gripping him on his shoulder, not in a typical, hazy way that people did on the dance floor, but rather an ‘I-want-your-attention’ grip. It was Brett Talbot. “Hey Brett,” he said, conscious of his voice slurring a little. 

“You here alone?” Brett yelled into his ear.

“Scott’s here, but yeah, I’m alone.”

Brett licked his lips. “Great.” 

From the moment they started dancing together, Brett’s intent was obvious, and Stiles was A-okay with that, encouraged it, even. The kid was 18, right? Brett grinned down at him, thrusting his hips to occasionally catch Stiles’ crotch, then moving even closer, seemingly zeroing in on Stiles’ rapidly filling dick. At 6’2”, Brett towered over his 5’10” and Stiles just went with it when Brett tipped his head back, running his tongue down Stiles’ jawline. 

“I’ve wanted this awhile,” Brett mouthed into Stiles’ ear. 

Stiles didn’t even try to stifle the groan that he let out. Brett wanted him? That was news to Stiles. And it was really, really hot.

Now they were grinding together, and Stiles could feel the answering heat in Brett’s crotch. There were ten thousand reasons this was a bad idea, but when he felt the hint of fang touching his neck, Stiles could not find a single fuck to give. 

Hell, Scott might even let him go home with Brett since they knew him. “Let’s get out of here,” he managed and began dancing backward, pulling the werewolf with him. He knew eventually, they’d hit the edge of the crowd, and the bar. He was perfectly fine with dry fucking until they did.

Apparently, Brett was on board with the plan, and when his face moved back in alignment, Stiles reached out, pulling the were’s mouth toward his. Stiles was right: Brett’s fangs were dropped slightly, and fuck if that wasn’t hotter than it should have been.

He was closing his eyes, mouth open to take whatever Brett would dish out when he ran into a body. Eyes flying open, he saw Brett’s eyes flash beta-gold. Before he could turn his head, he heard Derek’s voice.

“My respect for Satomi is what is keeping you alive right now.”

What the fuck?! “Hey!” he tried to turn but found himself wedged between two immovable objects.

“You, of all people,” Derek continued, “Can smell me all over him.”

Brett’s chin came up aggressively. “I asked if he was alone.”

“I am alone!” Stiles forced a little magic into his hands and forced them apart. “What the fuck, Derek?” He felt his magic rising, the strong thrum of it increasing through his legs, up into his torso. The world seemed a little more golden than it had just moments ago. “Outside. Now!” He heard the Alpha in his voice, as he turned and stalked toward the front door.

The air outside was cold, damp. It helped to ease his anger, bank his magic. Until he saw that only Derek had followed him outside. “What the fuck are you doing?” He was right up in Derek’s face and couldn’t have cared less. His fury was incandescent. He pointed toward the club door, too pissed to care that he was giving people coming into the club a show. “I’m going home with him!”

Derek, face full of ferocity, grabbed Stiles arm, dragging him around the side of the building. “Are you?” He shoved Stiles roughly face first against the wall, following with his own body weight until Stiles’ cheek was pressed against the concrete wall. 

Derek rocked into his ass, his voice angry and low in his ear. “This what you want? Were you going to let him fuck you out here in the alley?” He thrust against Stiles’ ass again. “You smell like sex, Stiles. Do you have any idea how that smells to someone like me or Brett?”

At the sound of Brett’s name, Stiles felt like his entire body burn as his magic swept up him, giving him the strength to buck Derek off him and reverse their positions. 

Now he thrust into Derek’s ass, hard, enjoying the sound of Derek’s grunt. “You talk a good game, wolf,” Stiles said, his voice guttural with magic and desire. He dug his hands into Derek’s hips, knowing if Derek was a human, he’d be leaving marks. He thrust up again. “Difference is, I want to fuck you.” He put his mouth just below Derek’s ear. He ground again, and let his teeth run down Derek’s neck, knowing what a sensitive area it was for a wolf. “Do you feel how much I’d love to fuck you?” He thrust a few more times, his vision growing more golden, his teeth biting down on Derek’s neck, long, and with enough force to leave a mark, even if only for a second. “But here’s the thing: you’ve never wanted me.”

And with the truth of those words, Stiles felt his anger doused with sorrow and not a little bit of self-disgust.

Stiles forced himself to move away, grabbing ahold of Derek’s bicep, pulling him off the wall. 

Derek was snarling, his fingers tipped in claws as he once again, grabbed Stiles, slamming him until his shoulder blades connected sharply with the wall. “You think you want me because you have a hard-on?” His fangs were down, his eyes bright blue. “That wasn’t for me,” he spat. “You’re just looking to get fucked.”

Stiles breath hung wetly in the cool night air, as he tried to breathe through his screwed-up emotions and the magic coursing through his veins. This wasn’t right. He tried to force down his magic, tried shaking his head to clear it.

Derek, however, was still furious. “Or is a fuck not what you had in mind?” He moved in closer, melding his body to Stiles’. “A fuck in an alley is very messy, Stiles,” he whispered at Stiles’ ear, and Stiles couldn’t help but shudder against Derek, his own body straining for the contact, even as his brain tried to tell him he shouldn’t.

Derek dropped to his knees, palming Stiles already straining erection. “You want something a little more submissive, then?” Derek slipped the button on Stiles’ jeans, almost casually, like they did this every day. The zipper was quick to follow. "You wanted a pretty young boy looking up at you? Begging you?"

“Derek, stop it.” He choked down rising sick in his throat. “Come on. What are we doing?”

But Derek’s eyes were still blazing, “Why? Isn’t this what you wanted? A quick blowjob in the alley? Did you want to watch him sink to his knees, watch him suck you down, his mouth wet with your cum?”

Stiles pulled away, rolling to the side when he saw Derek reach out to insert his hand into his jeans. With more than a little Alpha in his voice, he all but roared, “Are you crazy? I don’t want this.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I mean, I do. But not with you. Shit! That’s not what I mean. I mean, not like this.” He felt the stab of hurt through their bond. “No Derek, come on.” He dropped to his own knees, his stomach churning to see Derek like this, kneeling in a filthy alley, pain oozing from him. “Get up, Derek. Come on.”

Derek stood but stepped out of the frame of Stiles' arms. He held himself as if he was about to break into a million pieces. “I don’t know what you want from me, Stiles.”

Aghast, Stiles just gaped for a minute. “I don’t want you like this.” Quickly zipping himself up, he moved to Derek, reaching up, pulling his head down to his shoulder. Derek shuddered, as he wrapped his arms around Stiles.

“I’m so fucking tired.”

Stiles moved his hand softly up and down Derek’s neck. “I know, big guy. Let me, uh, go talk to Scott. I’ve got my bag in his car. I’d like to come home with you tonight. Just to sleep, okay? We can figure this out in the morning.” 

“Tomorrow is going to be worse,” Derek said quiet, young sounding. “Most everyone will be here tomorrow.”

“Well they can just fucking wait, can’t they?” Stiles said. “Come on, let’s go home, okay?”

He was about to release Derek, when he heard Scott calling his name, as he rounded the corner, Stiles’ forgotten coat in his hand. He screeched to a halt when he saw them. “You guys alright?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, lying through his teeth, knowing all three of them could tell. “We’re good.” He offered the best smile he could muster. “Can I get my bag from your car? I’m gonna drive Derek home.”

“How much did you have to drink?” Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his voice stubborn.

“Not enough,” Stiles said. “Besides, I think my magic cleared it out of my system. I promise: I am stone-cold sober.” 

Scott gave him a look, then his nose flared, as he briefly scented Stiles. Nodding, he took off to go get Stiles bag. Stiles fumbled in Derek’s pockets, finding the keys to his car. “Let’s get you home, buddy, okay?”


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles woke the next morning, cocooned once again in Derek’s arms and his magic. 

When they had gotten back to the loft the night before, Stiles had dithered, hanging back near the couch, until Derek called, “Don’t be stupid. Get over here.”

Derek had been all in and had barely brushed his teeth before stripping down to his boxer briefs, and crashed. Stiles laid there with him until he felt him drift off into a deep sleep. 

Stiles felt Derek swimming up toward consciousness via the bond, seconds before he went rigid in Stiles' arms. Even though he didn’t want him to, Stiles didn’t try to stop him from moving away. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, staring at the ceiling.

“Derek, please –” 

“I had no business interfering with you leaving with Brett.” His voice was wooden.

“Well, that we can agree on.”

“But I can’t have you sleeping in my bed and then in someone else’s the next night.”

“Derek,” Stile was exasperated. “I don’t sleep in your bed.”

Derek gave him his not-so-resting-bitch face. 

“Okay, okay, last two nights withstanding. It’s not like there weren’t extenuating circumstances.”

“Speaking of,” Derek rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Are we supposed to be somewhere this morning.”

“I texted my parents and Scott, told them we weren’t available until noon.” Stiles checked his phone. “It’s only 8 am. Why are we even awake?”

“You said we’d talk about it in the morning.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“Derek,” Stiles tried to cut him off. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. 

“No!” Derek looked over at him, eyes stormy. “I don’t know what got into me. I could have hurt you.”

“No, I don’t think you could have, actually.”

Derek huffed. “If it had happened four days ago, I could have hurt you. You told me, no, and I didn’t back off.”

“Look, things were heated.” He sighed. “We were both out of line. We can just forget about it?” Stiles' voice raised in a hopeful question.

“Is that what you want to do?” Derek asked, mouth tight.

Now Stiles looked away, suddenly fascinated with the high ceilings. 

“We can, you know,” Derek continued, voice quiet. “But there is one thing you have to know first.”

When he didn’t continue, Stiles finally looked at him, eyebrow raised in a query.

“You are wrong. I always wanted you.”

Stiles was flabbergasted. “What the fuck, dude? Since when?”

“Since you held me up in that pool.”

Stiles threw the sheets back and jumped out of the bed, frantically looking for his lacrosse bag. He thought his head was going to explode.

“What are you doing?” Derek’s face was panicked, but Stiles just couldn’t, right now.

“Getting dressed. I can’t lay in bed with you and have this ridiculous conversation.” 

 

Locating the bag, he pulled out a normal t-shirt, and jeans. No way in hell he was going to put on his club clothes again. As he pulled on his jeans, he stopped, and looked at Derek was who staring at him as if he was the one espousing bullshit. “Dude. You have got to be kidding me, right? And if you are? I have to say: your timing sucks!”

Derek stood up, not bothering to dress, which really wasn’t fair, and walked over to Stiles, taking the t-shirt, which still hung there in his hands. He sniffed it deeply. “You smell like petrichor to me. And fresh cut grass, and sunshine. You always have. And when you held me up in that pool, when you could have, and maybe should have, let me drown, you didn’t.”

“That was over six years ago, Derek! Six years!”

“I never wanted to be Kate.”

“You could never be Kate,” Stiles said breathing heavy, trying to adjust to this entire new worldview. He felt his magic begin to travel up his calves, but he pushed it back. Not the time. “But I can kind of understand your hesitance. Still, I’ve been 18 for over five years now, Derek.”

“I wanted you to go to college. I wanted you to have the opportunity to get out if you wanted.”

“That’s great, but what if I had? You made a decision for me and you withheld seriously pertinent information. What if I had found someone else? Married, had a kid, then what?”

“I’m not going to apologize for giving you the chance at finding happiness away from here.”

Snatching his shirt away from Derek, he turned on his heel and stomped to the kitchen. 

Taking out some of his frustration on the cabinet doors and coffee mugs he slammed down onto the granite counter did little to ease the turmoil in his mind. He stayed completely focused on the coffee maker brewing the mug of his favorite dark blend, modulating his breathing as the water heated. 

He heard Derek open the refrigerator door and waited until he felt Derek’s warmth at his back, delivering the Strauss Organic Half & Half to Stiles. He looked at the squat pint glass bottle, his fingers running over the condensation already beading there. 

“Is something wrong with the milk?”

“You don’t take cream in your coffee.”

“No.”

“This is a brand-new bottle. You always have it.”

“You like it.”

“You have to go to Whole Foods for it. You hate Whole Foods.”

“I hate the parking lot.” Derek sighed. “Is there a point to this discussion?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles turned to look at Derek. “You tell me.” He popped the seal on the milk and poured a healthy dollop into his mug. “Last night, you said you didn’t know what I wanted from you. Given this morning’s revelation, I’d ask you the same thing: what do you want from me, Derek?” 

Stiles gestured to the pantry door. “I know you have my favorite snacks. You make sure you have my favorite soda and ale.” He nodded toward the door that led to the laundry room. “I’m sure that mixed in with your laundry is at least a t-shirt of mine.” 

“At least,” Derek agreed.

Stiles smiled for a second, then jerked his head toward the spiral staircase. “I have a toothbrush here.”

He blew out a breath, suddenly afraid to hear what the answer to his next questions would be. “Have I moved in here, and not realized it? Are we dating?”

“Are you going to fix me a cup of coffee?” Derek asked, his voice flat, face expressionless except for his furrowed brows.

Stiles stared now, mouth open, suddenly furious all over again. This time the magic didn’t just surge to his knees, this time it was a full-on electrical storm sweeping up his body, turning his vision golden before he could even draw a breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled, lunging for Derek, and for a quick second, he wasn’t sure if he was going to kill him or kiss him. 

He was ravaging Derek’s mouth before he could even process what was happening. He felt his magic swoop up and around Derek. How dare the bastard ask him to fix him a cup of coffee at a time like this? 

Derek was giving as good as he got, as they bodily bounced between the counter and the island, Stiles jumping, and winding his legs around Derek’s hips. “Fuck you!” he licked into Derek’s mouth. “I’ve fucking wanted you from the minute I saw you when I was 16! How dare you decide what the hell was best for me!” He bit down hard enough to draw blood from Derek’s lip. His magic rushed forward, reaching for the small tear, trying to infiltrate Derek wherever it could.

Stiles felt fangs on his own tongue, and claws on his hips. “I fucking love you! I’ve fucking loved you since I was 16, you jackass!” His magic surged again, and he felt it flow out of him, physically and through his bond to Derek, he felt the heated pulse in his own tattoo, just as he felt it on his fingertips that grazed Derek’s tattoo. 

Derek roared, almost dropping Stiles, who quickly wished them over to the island. No goddamn way he was gonna end up in the floor.

Derek was staring at Stiles, his eyes an interesting color of blue-violet. “What did you just do?”

Stiles forced his magic down, watched his own vision return to ‘normal’. Had he just forced himself on Derek? His magic anyway? His hands started shaking as he realized he could have hurt Derek, for all he knew. The man he was finally able to say he loved and had he seriously forced himself onto him? 

He slid off the table, doubling over, and moving to the bathroom off the kitchen. “I’m gonna be sick.”

His stomach emptied itself until all that came up with bile. And after that dry heaves.

“Hey,” Derek said from behind, putting his hand over Stiles’ clammy neck. “I brought you your toothbrush. And here is some ginger ale.” A warm washcloth replaced the hand on his neck. He cracked open an eye enough to see Derek, dressed in pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, sitting, cross-legged on the Saltillo tile next to where Stiles was kneeling.

“Oh my god,” Stiles moaned, reaching back, needing Derek’s hand on him. “I almost, I mean, I pushed my magic on you.”

Derek stroked the back of his head. “It’s just learning control, Stiles.”

“It felt more like dub con.”

Derek’s hand stilled. “What?”

Stiles sighed. “Dubious consent. Like I was forcing myself on you.” He looked at Derek, eyes beseeching. “Please don’t make me say the word.”

Derek’s mouth thinned. “Stiles, you did not rape me.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles closed his eyes, stomach heaving again. “I can’t, I just can’t.” The last thing Derek needed was someone else, yet again, forcing themselves on him sexually.

“Stop thinking,” Derek said, pulling Stiles away from the toilet, and into his arms. 

Stiles only moaned. 

Derek shook him. “Come on.” He pushed himself to his knees and forced Stiles to stand. “Is this considered ‘forcing’? Me forcing you to stand up, come with me, when maybe you’d prefer to continue worshiping the porcelain god?”

Stiles gave him the gimlet eye in annoyance. “Now you’re just mocking me.”

“No, I’m not.” Derek sighed, standing fluidly, but kept his hands-on Stiles’ arms. “Look, can we please go sit down and talk through this issue. I’m not happy with how I didn’t stop when you said ‘no’ last night. And now you’re freaked about pushing your magic on me.” He stepped away from Stiles, making sure he was steady. “Brush your teeth. I’ll fix some coffee and scrambled eggs & toast.”

“With cheese?” Stiles asked, hopefully, happy to change the subject while he gathered his wits.

“Of course,” Derek said. “I have feta.”

Of course, he does.

‘Are you alright?’ Stiles heard Derek’s voice through their link.

‘I will be. You?’

‘I’m fine. Are we?’

Stiles smiled, felt tears well up. “As long as there is a ‘we’,” he said aloud, voice as solemn as a vow.

Derek’s mouth tipped up in a small grin, nodded, and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Stiles stared at his reflection in the glass. Holy shit, they were going to do this. Mechanically, he brushed his teeth, trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to say to Derek first.  
Yes, he was ticked that Derek had decided for them both that Stiles needed to go away to college, have typical 20-something experiences, before finally, FINALLY, telling him how he felt. Stiles stalled his hand halfway to the basin of the vanity. Wait. Had Derek told him how he felt? Or had he just said he wanted him?

He forced himself to place the toothbrush down onto the vanity, rinse his mouth with water, and then picked up the ginger ale. His stomach suddenly felt shaky again. He blanched, the ginger not going so well with his minty toothpaste.

Squaring his shoulders, he moved to the door. Clearly, they needed to talk. That wasn’t going to happen if he stayed in the bathroom.

Two places were already laid on the island, and Derek had placed the bread in the toaster. The scrambled eggs were on, and the feta cheese sat beside the two plates he had next to the stove.

Not seeing any coffee for Derek, Stiles made him one, stirring in the two teaspoons of turbinado sugar that Derek preferred.

By the time Stiles was placing the coffee on the table, Derek had started the toast, and the eggs were beginning to firm up.

“Can I help?” his voice sounded young, unsure, and he cursed himself inwardly.

“Butter’s on the counter. You can butter the toast when it’s done.” Derek reached for the coffee Stiles set at his arm. “Thanks.”

After the eggs were up, and suitably covered in feta cheese, for Stiles, and the toast buttered, they slid into their respective seats across from one another.

“I can’t be the next person who forces you to….” Stiles shook his head. “Forces you to do anything, Derek.” He looked up, locked eyes with Derek and prayed he was getting across to him. “I don’t want to be Kate either. Or Ms. Blake, or anyone else who could unduly influence you, in a personal relationship. I’d rather walk away right now.” Stiles' voice shook. “And never see you again, then harm you.”

Derek carefully sat down his knife and fork. “That is never going to happen. You could never be Kate or Jennifer.” He looked away for a moment. “We can sit here for days and discuss the terrible ways I’ve screwed up relationships.” He looked back, “But I’d prefer to talk about our relationship.” He laid his hand across the island, palm up, fingers slightly curled. “If you’ll have me.”

Stiles reached over, let his slimmer fingers be encased in Derek’s larger hand. “I’ll have you.” 

Derek picked up his fork again, their fingers still lightly linked. “Good. What else do we need to discuss?”

Stiles was glad he didn’t have anything in his mouth or he’d've spit it out. “Seriously? That’it? We’re together? Together, together?”

Derek shrugged, his mouth turned up in a sly grin. “Is that a problem? Like you said earlier, we’ve known each other forever.”

“We’ve never even kissed!” Stiles sputtered. “This is the weirdest thing ever!”

Derek barked out a laugh. “Uh, we’ve kissed. Last night? A few minutes ago?” He snorted in amusement. “And this? This is weirder than our parents being brought back to life? Weirder than you becoming some sort of ridiculously strong mage?”

“Well,” Stiles hedged. “Okay, maybe. But until four days ago, this would have been the weirdest thing ever.”

Derek saluted him with his fork, conceding the point. “Speaking of. Do you want to talk about your magic?”

Stiles’ face fell, and he felt his great mood bleed away. “I know you said I need to learn control, but how do you know I can? I was pushing magic on you, through our link, possibly down your throat when you asked what the hell I was doing.”

“Is that what you thought I was asking?” Derek chuckled. “You magically moved us.”

“What?” 

“I didn’t care about the magic you were pushing, it was like being enveloped in you. It was when you thought I was going to drop you: we were just suddenly a foot closer to the island.”

“Like levitation?”

“No. Like, one second, we’re one place, the next, we’re somewhere else.”

“Why did you roar?”

Derek looked down, as if embarrassed. “Your magic, it felt sensual when it rushed me. My wolf liked it.”

Setting down his fork, Stiles leaned over the island, both elbows on the cool stainless steel. “He did, did he?” He paused, waited until Derek looked up. “How much did he like it?”

“Clear the island,” Derek said abruptly.

Stiles sat back, nonplussed. “What?”

“Come on,” Derek said. “Clear the island.”

Stiles looked at the dishes on the island. “You want me to clean up?”

“No.” Derek’s pupils were blown wide. “Clear the island,” he repeated. “Wiggle your nose or wave your hand, whatever it is you do.”

Stiles stared at him, stunned at the pop culture reference. But deciding he’d circle back to that later, he did as Derek asked: the plates, cutlery, coffee mugs all vanished to reappear on the counter next to the range. 

Before he could even process what he’d just done, Derek was on him, hauling him up on the island, following with his own body, as they lay out on the island, Derek positioning Stiles under him, until they were connected, chest to crotch. Derek groaned, and Stiles echoed it, as their bond sparked between them.

“I want to take you apart slowly,” Derek breathed into Stiles’ neck, his lips grazing Stiles’ skin. Stiles arched into the moist heat on his neck. “But I don’t think that is going to happen this time.”

Shifting, Stiles moved his head, to capture Derek’s mouth. While it wasn’t the first time they kissed, it felt like a promise being made between them, like vows so deep that Stiles felt it ping through their bond and felt a burning in his tattoo.

They broke apart, and Derek pulled back, using his hand to push Stiles’ t-shirt up. The tattoo was glowing. The steel beneath Stiles exposed back was cold, and he shuddered. “We need to be in bed.”

“Take us there,” Derek said.

“What?” Stiles couldn’t believe Derek had even suggested it. “I could kill us.”

“No,” Derek said, his fingertips rubbing lazy but tantalizing circles on Stiles’ chest, moving lower and lower each pass. “You won’t kill us.”

“You think I can do that?”

“I think you can do anything, Stiles.” 

Stiles almost choked on emotion as he read the truth in Derek’s face. Closing his eyes, he reached up, pulling Derek closer to him, ensuring his arms were wrapped about the wolf.

The soft bed beneath him, made Stiles cry out in laughter, then tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh my god! I did it!”

Derek grinned, and then kissed him. “I told you so.” He pulled free from Stiles' arms, and sat up on his haunches, pulling the shirt over his head. 

Stiles helped when Derek reached up to help him out of his own shirt. Could this really be happening? After all the years of wanting, to find out Derek wanted him back? 

Apparently, he did. Within seconds, Derek was sliding back down on top of him, and when their chests met, Stiles felt the jump in his tattoo again. 

“Wonder what that means?” Derek asked.

Stiles, however, couldn’t have cared less. “Later.” He purposely, slowly, bared his neck.

Derek growled, his fangs dropping. Stiles felt him harden up inside his pajama pants, and then Derek’s eyes flashed a blueish-purple color. Before Stiles could ask about it, Derek came down, pressing his fangs into Stiles' neck, breathing deeply, but not breaking the skin.

Stiles groaned, thrusting his hips up, his own cock ridiculously hard now. “Oh Fuck,” he breathed. He felt Derek tonguing his neck, had his mind went blissfully blank. “Hurry,” he managed to say. “Soon. Too soon.”

Derek growled again, and Stiles grabbed the base of his own cock, to stave off orgasm, as Derek once again, bit down, with a little more tooth this time. Who the fuck knew that would be a turn on?

“You like it, don’t you?” Derek breathed, lisping a little around his fangs. “You get off on wondering if my control might slip.” He laved the area where his teeth had come down. “I can’t turn you, you know. But you like the idea of me being out of control enough to try.”

“I’m not so sure you can’t turn me,” Stiles breathed, reciting bestiary entries in Latin, in his head, trying to maintain control. “Your eyes. They turned a funny purple color.”

Derek let his claws out, ran one from shoulder to sensitive palm, leaving the faintest of pink marks, on Stiles pale skin. Stiles groaned, leaning up into the touch, and simultaneously pulling Derek down. “Not helping, if you want this to last more than 5 minutes.”

“I didn’t know you had a danger kink,” Derek said, biting at Stiles' chin, then moving down to his collarbone.

“Jeez, Derek!” Stiles managed a hollow laugh. “How could I not after high school? I was always horny AND running for my life. The two got mixed up in my head!”

Derek stared down at him, fangs still out. “Duly noted. And I think my eyes are more about your magic. I feel it all around me.” He looked up, catching Stiles' eyes. “And soon, I want to feel it in me!”

Releasing his cock, Stiles used both hands to pull Derek up for a filthy kiss. “I can’t,” he muttered between kissed. “I can’t even.” With little finesse, he shoved his hands down into Derek’s pajama bottoms, felt the searing heat of his erection. 

Derek’s head jerked back, and he moaned, his voice raw, as Stiles worked his cock. Long and thick, and uncut like Stiles had always imagined it. He salivated and knew what needed to happen next.

The next second, they were both naked, and Derek was on his back, a surprised yip out of him. “What the hell?”

“Oh, I’m gonna love this,” Stiles said, now on his haunches above Derek, his own cock curved up against his stomach. 

“Stiles,” Derek growled, reaching for him, trying to pull him down.

Stiles resisted. Running his hands down the perfection of Derek’s body, he stopped at the divots of his hips. He wanted to tell Derek how perfect he was but swallowed it back. Stiles wasn’t just after Derek’s body. He wanted everything, and he knew that Derek hated being ogled like a piece of meat.

Moving down to the end of the bed, he made no pretense about his intent. He wanted Derek to see the desire in his eyes, to feel the caring in his hands, and mouth, as he kissed his way up Derek’s inner thigh. He took a moment to just breathe on Derek’s amazing cock, head already uncovered, wet with precum. 

“Please,” came Derek’s voice. And the almost begging, had Stiles reacting automatically, mouth open, swallowing down the head.

Derek bucked, and Stiles used a bit of magic, to force the werewolf’s hips down on the bed. No fucking way was this going to be over too fast. He breathed in the smell of Derek’s musk. He smelled like the forest, the resin of pine needles. Using his tongue, he teased the foreskin, and Derek almost came off the bed. But Stiles pushed him back down. ‘Not yet,’ he said through the bond.

He blinked, and his other hand had lube on his fingertips. Carefully, he ran his finger down the sensitive skin beneath Derek’s balls, and just rested his finger on Derek’s hole. It flexed, and Derek cried out again. Stiles moved his hand away, petting Derek’s stomach, still clasping the base of Derek’s cock with his other hand. ‘It’s okay,’ he said through the bond. ‘Easy. I’ve got you.’

‘Touch me again,’ Derek responded. And even in Stiles' head, Derek sounded breathless, desperate.

This time with Stiles placed his hand on Derek’s entrance, he teased the greedy little pucker which was opening and closing like a little rosette with each stroke.

Underneath him, Derek was making guttural sounds, his voice rasping as he moaned out his approval. Stiles preened a little, unbelievably proud he could take Derek apart like this, with so little effort. Speaking of….‘One day, I’m going to tongue fuck you until you beg me to stop,’ Stiles said in his head, never letting up on the suction around Derek’s cock. ‘Do you think you can come with just my tongue in your beautiful ass?’

He breached Derek’s entrance with just the tip of his finger, and anticipating Derek’s bucking, he opened his throat and swallowed Derek down, using strong muscles to milk the wolf.

“Stiles!” Derek groaned, eyes flashing blue-purple before he closed them, and came down Stiles’ throat. 

Stiles milked him through the aftershock, immediately releasing him when he felt Derek tense. Stiles never wanted to be ‘that guy’ who overstimulated someone after an orgasm. His own hand was snaking down toward his own erection, when Derek flipped him, shimmying down his body so fast, Stiles' head spun. “You don’t have to.”

Derek’s chuckle was throaty. “Oh, but I want to.” He worried the skin at Stiles’ left hipbone, catching it with his teeth and tongue. He slid further down further, his tongue sliding downward, just missing his dick. 

“Derek!” Stiles moaned, tried thrashing, desperate for the touch where he needed it the most. This time he was the one held down by superior strength, and his dick pulsed even harder. “Fuck.”

“Next time,” Derek promised, and then swallowed Stiles down to the root. 

“Oh my god!” Stiles shouted, straining up, feeling Derek’s claws on his hips. “Holy Shit! Derek!” Stiles could feel Derek’s throat muscles, and that was all it took and he was spilling down Derek’s throat. Stiles panted, as aftershocks trembled through him. 

Derek moved up beside him, collapsing, then manhandling Stiles onto his chest, fingers stroking up and down Stiles' arm.

“I don’t even care that I lasted less than 10 seconds,” Stiles breathed out. “Really. Couldn’t care less.” He felt Derek ping him through the bond. ‘Really.’ Stiles assured. And he didn’t. Frankly, once he had his mouth around Derek’s erection, he was surprised he didn’t come immediately. 

Derek laughed aloud, and Stiles realized he’d actually sent that thought through the bond they had. “Can you always read my mind?”

“God, I hope not,” Derek said aloud, pulling Stiles close, even as he faux-struggled to get away.

“Hey!” Stiles pouted. “That is just rude.”

Derek pulled him closer still, until Stiles was on top of him, their legs comingled. “I love you, Stiles. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“I love you too.” Stiles swallowed. Their timing sucked ass. Yet, maybe it took the complete upheaval in their lives to get them to this point. Was it only two days ago he was working on a translation?  
A phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Derek reached over picking up his phone. He sighed.

“What’s up?”

“Peter backed out on coming in today. He told my mom he needed another 48-hours.”

“What the hell for? Powerplay?” 

“No idea.” Derek put the phone down and then snuggled back up to Stiles. “Might be just as well. I don’t think they know what to do about him.”

“I assume The Council can just ‘bring’ him back, if necessary.” Probably be easier for everyone, Stiles thought. “What time is our meeting with Alpha Hale?” 

“2 pm,” Derek responded. “And it’s only 9.45.”

Stiles hummed his acknowledgment. “You know you made a reference to ‘Bewitched’ when you told me to clear the island earlier, right?”

“Yes, I did.” Derek was silent for a beat. “Cora used to love the reruns. She always wanted to be a witch when she was a little girl.” He kissed Stiles’ forehead. “And that is the closest I can come to understanding how your magic works. No spells, no wands.”

“I just wiggle my nose?” Stiles asked, letting his magic slowly wash over him and Derek.

“It seems that way,” Derek said, pulling the covers up over them. “How does it seem to you?”

“It feels like it comes up from the ground, pulses up my body.” He paused. “But when I moved us in here, from the kitchen? I didn’t feel anything. I just thought about it, like you told me to.”

“That could be scary.”

“I know. If Deaton and my mom have never seen magic like this, how am I supposed to learn how to use it?” Stiles arched his neck back, looking at Derek. “Please don’t say ‘The Council’.”

‘The Council,’ Derek’s voice whispered in his head.

“Jackass,” Stiles said, no heat in his voice. “So, this bond. Getting stronger. My magic obviously likes you, and your wolf likes it.” He let it hang out there, letting the implications coalesce in his own mind. “Can you see the bond? With your wolf eyes?”

Derek looked a little surprised. “I haven’t tried.”

Stiles watched as Derek flashed his eyes. They were still a strange blue-purple color. His intake of breath made Stiles tense, sit up as if waiting for an attack. “What is it?”

“Look,” Derek said, his voice quiet. “Look with your other eyes.”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Stiles protested.

“Just try,” Derek said. “You can do it. Tease your magic up, and then focus on your tattoo.”

Stiles sat up in bed, the sheet draping down around his waist. He shivered from the sudden exposure to cooler air. He called his magic to him, felt is sliding up his legs, up through his hips. This was different: it was calmer, more soothing. He looked at his tattoo, and thought, ‘show me’. He gasped, reaching out his hand when he saw something coming from his heart, even though he knew he couldn’t actually touch the filament of opalescent light that ran between their chests. 

“But our tattoos aren’t there,” he said, eyes wide, tone but a whisper. 

“Keep looking,” Derek breathed, pointing toward Stiles’ tattoo. “See the gold strand?”

Shifting his gaze, Stiles looked and saw a thinner gold strand that ran from his tattoo, but up over Derek’s shoulder. “What the hell is that?”

“I think that is the bond for the wards,” Derek’s voice was as quiet as Stiles’ like they were in a library.

Again, Stiles reached out, wanting to touch the shimmering strand connecting them, literally, at their hearts. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, but his eyes shifted away, and Stiles felt discomfort rolling off him. 

“You don’t know, but you have an idea,” Stiles said, his eyes tracking as Derek looked everywhere but at him.

“I don’t know.” Derek pulled back, shifting away, and throwing back the covers. “But I think we need to talk to my mother. And maybe yours too.”

Stiles panicked. “Did I do this? Is this why your eyes aren’t blue anymore?” He felt nausea sweep over him again. “Did I force you to want me?”

Derek turned back, eyes kind again, but still worried. “Stiles, no. You didn’t do this. But maybe I did.”

“What do you mean? Are you sure I didn’t warp you with my magic? You’ve never been interested in me before this.”

Derek laughed. “Ask Scott. He can tell you I’ve been in love with you since you were sixteen.”

That stopped Stiles in his tracks. “What? Are you telling me, that Scott knew and didn’t tell me?”

“I asked him not to.”

Stiles was up now and grabbing for his jeans, which he found neatly, go figure, folded near the nightstand. “He is so dead.”

His phone already in his hand, Derek grinned. “I’ll let him know. Please don’t kill him in front of my mom. It might make her question allowing us to stay in town.”


	12. Chapter 12

Derek had just turned off his SUV at his parent’s house when Stiles’ parents pulled in next to him.

“Parking is going to get tight around here,” Stiles quipped. “You and Cora come back, you’ll need more parking room.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek looked at him. “You can just build a parking structure, right? With a nose twitch?”

“Very funny, smart guy,” Stiles said, leaning over and knocking their shoulders together. “Good thing I love you, huh?”

Derek nodded, a grin on his face. “Good thing.” He nodded toward Stiles’ parents. “You ready to face your parents after we ‘tore up the sheets’?”

“Oh my god!” Stiles blanched. “Don’t even. Ugh.” Then a thought occurred. “What about you? You ready to meet the in-laws?”

Derek groaned. “You dad will never let us work together now.” He jerked his chin toward the house. “And back atcha.”

“Your mom scares me to death. And you’ve never, ever said a word about your dad. Will they like me?”

Before Derek could answer, Stiles went on suddenly processing what Derek had said about them not being able to work together. “Oh my god, that damned application! Please, please remind me to get that application filled out for the academy.”

“If we both survive ‘Meet the Parents’ I will.”

Stiles opened the door, “You’re really fun, dude. Really.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’.”

“Hey Dad,” Stiles called out. Might as well get the pain over with. 

“Son,” he said, not meeting Stiles' eyes. “Derek.”

When Stiles looked at Derek, to see if he noticed, he saw Derek wouldn’t meet the Sheriff’s eyes either.

‘We’re not the only ones, dude,’ he said through the bond.

‘I’m not sure that makes it any better,’ Derek responded. But he did look up to meet the gaze of his boss and Stiles felt him flinch internally. 

‘Don’t think about sex,’ Stiles thought. 

‘Great, Stiles. Thanks. Now that is all I can think about.’

The Sheriff just looked between them.

Stiles was unprepared for his dad to reach around and slap him on the back. “Good work, kid. About time.”

Derek turned such a shade of puce, Stiles thought he might have stopped breathing. 

His mom looked between the three of them, and then between just Stiles and Derek. The look in her eyes, like she was looking beyond them, told Stiles she too, could see the bond.

“What is it, mom?” Mom still sounded foreign on his lips, but it slipped out effortlessly.

She too colored prettily, and said, “It would seem things have progressed.”

Stiles felt color burn high in both of his cheeks, and he felt Derek groan through their bond. “So, what is it?”

Claudia smiled. “I think we should go see your mother, Derek.”

Now Derek groaned aloud. “And go through this fun again?”

Claudia chuckled. “I need her professional opinion. The embarrassment is just an added bonus.”

 

David opened the door, ushering them in, taking jackets, offering them drinks, which Talia served up, with Derek’s help.

Once again, they found themselves around the island. Talia led off. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Well,” Derek began, then looked away.

Stiles, who was sitting next to him, elbowed him. “I bet you wish The Council was here to do a mind dump now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Derek said, frowning at Stiles. “I truly do.”

‘I can lead,’ Stiles broadcast through the bond.

Derek nodded, and Stiles noticed all the parents, except his mom, frowning slightly. He took a deep breath and then told them they’d seen a different bond than they’d expected to see when they looked, earlier that morning.

He saw Talia and Claudia exchange glances, and his mother’s imperceptible nod.

“May I?” Talia asked. It was somewhat rhetorical, as she immediately flashed her Alpha eyes, looking between the pair of them. After a moment, her eyes returned to their normal color, and she looked at her son and then to Stiles. “Gentlemen, maybe we should confer in my office?”

“No,” Derek said. His hand reached over to capture Stiles’. “Not unless Stiles wants to.”

Stiles breathed out a huff of air. “Uhm.” He looked at his dad, who only looked curious. Stiles chided himself for flashing back to his teen years when his dad didn’t care for Derek as much as he did now. If what he thought was happening, was happening, he knew his dad would be cool. He glanced nervously at Derek’s dad, but Derek had once told him that being gay wasn’t a big deal in werewolf packs. “No, I’m good.” 

Talia started to speak, but Stiles cut her off, suddenly desperate to explain his concerns, as well as why he hesitated. “I’m only worried that I forced Derek into something he really didn’t want. That’s all.” 

Talia smiled. “Stiles, you couldn’t have forced Derek into this.” She motioned between their chests. “Derek has initiated a mating bond.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles questioned.

“Why would you think you’d forced Derek?” the sheriff asked.

“Because of my magic,” Stiles said. He looked at his mother. “It keeps reaching for Derek.” He turned back to Talia. “And his eye color is changing. It’s no longer just blue.”

“Son,” the Sheriff said, a chuckle in his voice. “Derek has been gone on you for years. Almost as long as you have been on him.”

Stiles' mouth dropped open. “Why the hell am I the only person who didn’t know it?”

“Well,” David began. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know it.”

“Nor did I,” Talia said, her mouth twitching.

“Me either,” his mom chimed in.

“Oh my God!” Stiles couldn’t believe it. “The dead people got jokes.”

“Stiles!” Derek and the Sheriff said together, shock ringing out.

But they three returnees just laughed, and David got up and walked around to stand between Derek and Stiles. “It’s okay. I started it.” He clapped a hand on Stiles' shoulder. “This calls for a celebration! Welcome to the family, son.”

And just like that, Stiles was werewolf married. He was totally stunned. Except, he was ridiculously okay with it. His magic crept up his legs, sliding towards Derek’s legs. At least he didn’t have to worry about his and Derek’s compatibility since Derek had initiated a mating bond

He was hauled up into a hug by Derek’s dad, who was surprisingly strong for a human. But then again: if you run with wolves, Stiles guessed. He was flooded with happiness, as Talia, then his own parents embraced him, and then Derek.

Finally, it was his turn to embrace Derek, and he couldn’t help but stare at Derek. He’d never seen him so happy. ‘You okay with this, big guy?’

‘More than. You?’

‘I’m gonna kiss you now’ he warned, then leaned in, using his fingertips to guide Derek’s mouth to his. The joy he felt flowing through their bond was enough to bring tears to his eyes, as their lips touched. “My god, I love you,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s mouth.

But apparently not low enough, as a round of clapping and chorus of cheers went up from their parents. He opened his eyes to see Derek’s eyes, also suspiciously glistening.

“I love you too, Stiles.”

In the hubbub that followed, Stiles listened as conversations swirled around him. The Dads decided they were going to cook out and began planning a menu which included T-bones and a lot of alcohol.

The moms discussed what it meant that Derek’s eye color was changing and had him demonstrate a few times. The four of them were shooed out of the kitchen so ‘the dads’ could work.

They landed in the living room, and Stiles learned what a mating bond entailed, and they practiced Stiles moving his magic to Derek, and discussed possibilities on Derek’s eyes changing color.

Talia even put in a call to Deaton, who didn’t have much more to offer except speculation. He promised to check some sources, but he, like everyone seemed to think they should use The Council as a resource while they still had the opportunity. He offered his congratulations before ringing off.

Stiles frowned. Again. From his perspective, The Council was about as enigmatic as Deaton had always been. Was he the only one that didn’t trust them?

He must have said that aloud because his mom put a hand on his shoulder. “I think there is more that we don’t know yet.” She admitted. “But I also think they are our best chance at understanding what is  
happening to your magic, particularly as we’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“If they’ll tell us,” Stiles grumped. 

The Sheriff stuck his head into the living room. “We’re going to the store. Want anything?”

Talia and Claudia both moved to the kitchen, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.

“So, we’re werewolf married?” Stiles said, a grin on his face, as he turned on the couch.

“If you want to be,” Derek said, only a hint of anxiety around his eyes.

Stiles launched himself at Derek, pushing him back on the couch. “Oh, I want to be.”

Derek’s eyes crinkled in genuine laughter, and he shifted Stiles so that their legs were intertwined. “Good thing.”

Stiles took a moment to appreciate Derek’s laughter: his smile transforming his face. He was even more beautiful, if possible.

Their lips met, and Stiles sank into Derek’s heat, taking it slow like they really hadn’t gotten a chance to yet. “This is forever,” he murmured, into Derek’s mouth. “And ever.” He took his time, worrying Derek’s bottom lip, using his tongue to canvas the inside of Derek’s mouth, like he was mapping it.

Groaning, Derek bucked up, and then slid his hands under Stiles’ shirt, and Stiles groaned at the skin on skin contact. He felt the desire between them, not just physically, but also emotionally, and his magic sang out as it wrapped around Derek. “I love you,” he said. “I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

Derek moaned into his mouth and Stiles groaned. “Dude, your mom can totally hear us, can’t she?”

Derek broke free and ran his mouth down Stiles’ neck. “Yep. And my dad too.”

Stiles pulled back. “What? I thought your dad was human.” He shook his head. “I mean, is human.”

Derek’s chest rumbled with laughter. “He is. But his mating bond with my mom gives him some of the Alpha powers too.”

Stiles set up further, thinking. “So maybe your eyes are changing colors due to my magic. Huh.” 

“There is a precedence for it, yes.” Talia stood in the doorway, smiling fondly.

Suddenly, Stiles was across the room, standing near the fireplace.

Talia’s laugh was low and musical. She looked at Derek. “I see what you mean.” They’d explained how Stiles had ‘moved’ around Derek’s apartment last night, leaving out the particulars.

Stiles blushed from head to toe. “Ma’am, I’m….uh….I don’t know how I got here.”

“Relax, Stiles,” Derek said, sitting up carefully. “We’re married now.”

The group was finishing cleaning up from their impromptu ‘wedding luncheon’ complete with toasts from the parents, wishing them long life, and lots of cubs.

They’d laughed their way through the talk of children, Stiles wondering if he could just magic them babies when Derek had surprised everyone by leering at Stiles and asking “Where would be the fun in that? I want to do it the old-fashioned way!”

“Oh my God!” Stiles turned bright red, but then lunged at Derek. “Maybe I’ll magic YOU up a way to carry our cubs!”

Derek caught him, and his eyes flashed, this time more red than blue. “I’m the Alpha in this relationship.”

“Like hell,” Stiles growled back, his heart about to burst with happiness.

“You keep on thinking that, son,” the Sheriff called out. Stiles turned to see his dad, beaming with pride. 

“Whose side are you on?” Stiles demanded.

“Yours,” the Sheriff said. “At least until we get back to work. Then I’m on Derek’s.”

“I’ll be there soon!” Stiles reminded him. “As soon as I’m finished with the academy.”

“Assuming I’ll hire you,” the Sheriff groused.

Talia and Derek stilled, and Stiles froze as well. “Who is it?”

“Scott,” Derek said.

Was it really that late? Stiles slipped the phone out of his pocket, checking the time. 1.45pm. “Oh, he is gonna be pissed I got married without him.”

Derek nodded. “Uh huh. I’ll let you tell him.” He moved into Stiles space and nuzzled his neck. “He can be there for the next wedding.”

Stiles froze. ‘Really? We’re getting married-married too?’

‘Whenever you want,’ Derek replied. He released Stiles and headed toward the door.

“Well, that is our cue,” Talia said, as she stood. “I have business to attend to.” She and Stiles moved toward the door, Stiles standing back, signaling for her to proceed him.

 

Scott stood inside the threshold. He looked nervous, and Stiles went to him immediately, pulling him into the living room. “Everything okay?”

Derek had followed, and Scott included them both in his gaze. “I, uh, would like to talk to Talia alone first, if you guys don’t mind.”

Derek’s face went blank, and Stiles felt a thrum of concern through the bond.

“Uh,” Stiles shook his head, trying to clear it, focus on what Scott was saying. “Why? I mean, can I ask why?” 

Scott’s face gave nothing away except his nerves. Then he forced his ‘normal’ happy face on. “It’s good. Don’t worry. I uh, just would like to talk to Talia alone, before we talk as the Hale-McCall pack. Okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Stiles said, hands up in supplication. “Whatever you say.”

Talia stood in the doorway. “Shall we?”


	13. Talia

Talia ushered Scott into her office. Curiosity piqued, as she’d heard the request Scott had made of his number two, and his emissary. It was a break in protocol, but from Derek, she’d understood that Scott was very laid back in the handling of his pack.

She seated herself across from him at her desk. “Can I offer you refreshment?” 

“No thank you, Alpha Hale.” 

But he said no more.

“You requested to see me, Alpha McCall,” she prompted.

Scott held her eye, but Talia could smell the nerves on the young man. “I did.” He cleared his throat. “I know you’ve been filled in on what has happened since,” Scott stumbled. “Since you’ve been gone.”

Talia listened as Scott provided his perspective on what had happened after Peter bit him, what he wanted for his pack, and himself, going forward. He argued that if the decision was made to remove Peter from this timeline, that those that Scott himself had turned, and the remainder of the pack, would be taken care of, to include allowing them to decide their own fate. He told Talia that he didn’t know if Liam would remain bitten, but he was sure Hayden would. He explained about her previous illness, and how turning her had saved her life after rejecting her sister’s kidney.

Talia acknowledged her own misgivings about removing Peter. She explained hers and David’s thoughts on how sacred a True Alpha was. But she did not lie about how hard it would be to lose her daughter, her heir. 

If the decision went the other way, and Scott remained a True Alpha, he freely admitted he had no clue about how to be an Alpha who had training or who had been born to it. 

He shared his fears and how at times he had questioned if he was doing all he could for his pack, but without guidance, he could trust, beyond what Derek, Stiles, and Deaton could provide, he didn’t know what else to do.

Talia ached for the young man. How terrible it would be to be thrust into power with no training. Scott’s situation was not so very different than Derek’s had been. And Scott had been brought into it at a younger age without growing up knowing what it meant to be a werewolf.

It sounded as if Scott had a good deal of support from his mother, and the Sheriff. The more they talked, the more it seemed, that they were, indeed pack members. Which, truth be told, didn’t really surprise Talia. But it was another piece of the dynamic to be considered.

As Scott walked through the tough times he’d had with Derek, and how Stiles helped keep the pack(s) together, an idea was formulating in Talia’s mind. It was rare, but not completely unheard of when there were large numbers in a pack. “I think, I have an idea, Alpha McCall.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Scott opened the door and invited Stiles and Derek in. They pulled chairs around from the table, sitting near their Alpha, but also facing her. Talia could feel the nerves and curiosity practically buzzing off Stiles. As could her son, apparently, as he reached over and took Stiles’ fidgeting hands into his own.

“Alpha Hale,” Derek said, nodding respect, as would be expected.

Stiles nodded, then greeted her as well. “We come as Alpha McCall’s second in command, and his emissary.”

She nodded. It was cute to see her son and son-in-law, who were earlier force-feeding each other a stand-in wedding cake David and John had picked up while they were out, now casting themselves in a role as members of another pack. Of course, had Scott not been amenable to her suggested solution to the situation they found themselves in, she supposed it would be more bittersweet, than cute.

Scott turned to his packmates. “I have spoken with Alpha Hale.” He cleared his throat. “I have asked that the McCall-Hale pack be absorbed into the original Hale pack.”

Talia hid her smile, as her son looked poleaxed, and Stiles' mouth dropped open.

“What?” Stiles asked. “Scott? Seriously? Why?” He glanced at Talia, who had schooled her features. “No offense, Alpha Hale,” He turned back to Scott. “Are you sure?” Now he turned back to Talia. “Alpha, can we not coexist peacefully as two packs?”

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice held a touch of Alpha. Talia was only slightly surprised that it actually worked on the young man. “This was my decision. I didn’t even ask if we could be a separate pack.”

Finally, Derek spoke. “Alpha Hale, may we please speak with our Alpha in private?”

Talia stood, again hiding her smile. Her son had grown into a fine man. He’d listened and learned from all the lessons she’d provided Laura. “Of course.”

Talia stepped outside and heard raised voices before she pulled the door closed with a snick.

She went into the kitchen, where the John and David were still eating cake. 

“What’s going on in there?” the sheriff asked.

“She’ll never tell,” David assured.

“They’re having an intra-pack discussion,” she said, moving to take the fork from David, stealing a bite of his cake. “This is pretty good.”

“I know,” he said, taking the fork back. “There’s a new bakery since we were, well, here.”

“We’ll have to plan a more formal wedding,” she said, looking over at Claudia. “I assume I’m not the only one struggling to believe I’m planning a wedding for my 15-year old son?”

“He’s marrying my 10-year old,” Claudia chimed in.

“Not me,” the Sheriff said. “Those two have been dancing around each other ever since they met. At first, I thought they were going to kill one another. Then I saw it change.” He put his fork down, his face sobered. “It’s been long years for both of them. It’s good to see something good finally happening for those two.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I can’t believe he just gave up his pack,” Stiles said, moving to Derek’s kitchen and setting down half of the remaining ‘wedding’ cake.

Derek tossed his keys on the table by the door, a soft clunk where they landed in the bamboo bowl, just for that purpose. “I think we should look at it like he wants to do what is best for his pack. And for my mom’s pack.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Did you know he was going to do that?”

Derek sighed, clearly exasperated. “Stiles. When would I have talked to Scott? You and I’ve either been with each other, or you’ve been with him since this started.”

Stiles lifted the lid of the cake box, sticking his finger inside and coming away with buttercream frosting. He sucked it off. “Okay, okay. You’re right.”

“Besides, he didn’t give up his pack. They are still his betas. He will be an Alpha underneath my mom.” Derek crossed the loft and sunk into the couch. “It’s not unheard of.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Stiles retorted. God knows how many books he’d read since Scott was bitten.

“I didn’t say it was common,” Derek replied. 

“So long as they don’t decide to kill all of us off and start Alpha Pack II,” Stiles said, his voice dark.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” Derek rubbed his eyes. “Come here. Please.”

Stiles’ concern burned away, replaced by pleasant nerves, his magic responding to Derek’s voice. He felt like his magic was propelling him forward. “Uh huh,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been another one of those days.”

Derek chuckled but stood up. “It’s barely 5 o’clock.” But he let Stiles drag him toward the bed.

Their bed, Stiles thought, grinning. “So, if we’re married, I can move in, right?”

Derek paused from pulling his Henley over his head. “Well, that would generally seem like the natural order of things. Do you want to?”

“Are you kidding?” Stiles toed off his sneakers and had his jeans unbuttoned. “Get in bed.” He shivered from the cool air in the loft, after he stripped off the remainder of his clothes. He curled into Derek, as he climbed under the covers. “You know I love you, right?”

“I don’t know. You didn’t even tell Scott we were mated.”

“Ohmigod, Derek! Seriously?” Stiles threw up his hands. “Kinda didn’t seem like the right time with him giving his pack up, and all.”

“He isn’t giving his pack up,” Derek said, annoyance in his voice. “I told you. My mom told you.”

“You mean my new Alpha and mother-in-law, right?”

“I don’t know,” Derek volleyed back his voice icy. “Are you going to admit to her being your mother-in-law, if you can’t even tell your best friend about being my husband?”

Stiles froze, his blood ran cold. Derek couldn’t possibly think…“Are you serious, right now?” He reached into the bond, probing.

“Stop that!” Derek yelled, his head turned away. But Stiles could feel his laughter in the bond. 

“Shut up!” Stiles crowed. “You jackass.” 

“Yep,” Derek said. “I’m feeling the love.”

Stiles tackled him, onto the bed, and they laughed for a few breathless moments.

“You know I love you,” Stiles said again.

“I hope so,” Derek said, “You’ve got your elbow in my diaphragm.”

Stiles marveled at this playful side of Derek he’d never seen. He loved it. But it made what he was about to admit even tougher. “And I’d like nothing better than to consummate this marriage, right here, right now.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Stiles cuddled closer. “But I am really tired. And we’re going to be up late tonight with Cora.”

“Are you refusing to consummate this marriage, Stiles Stilinski-Hale?”

“I’m not refusing. I’m putting it off until a later date.” He hurried on when he saw Derek’s raised eyebrow. “A very sooner than later, later date.”

“You amaze me,” Derek said, seemingly fighting to keep a smile off his face. “You don’t even want me anymore.”

“That is a big fat lie,” Stiles declared. But he continued to snuggle down into the bed. “But it’s your fault for not taking advantage of my prime years. I’m past my peak now.”

The snort of laughter from Derek jarred Stiles’ head. He whined his discomfort. “Sleep, Derek Stilinski-Hale….man that is going to be a mouthful, isn’t it?”

Derek kissed the top of his head, and Stiles kissed his pecs, right about his nipple. “Sexy times later, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said. Stiles felt his magic curl around them and felt Derek be pulled under, even before he drifted off to sleep, moments later.


	15. Chapter 15

Stiles woke up when Derek swallowed him down. “Christ!”

Derek pulled off his head, looked up at him. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Stiles shivered from the cool air hitting his already throbbing dick. “What….” Stiles took a deep breath. “What time is it?”

“Cora should be here in about an hour.” Derek leaned down, laving up and down Stiles shaft, running his tongue up under the very sensitive spot on Stiles’ glans.

“Fuck,” Stiles said. “Derek, come on. Come here.” He reached down, pulling on Derek’s shoulders until his husband – his husband – was on top of him. Stiles tasted himself in Derek’s mouth, and Stiles was fully awake. 

He slid his hands between them, getting his fingers around them both.

Derek moaned into his mouth. “Used to dream about this. You, doing us both at the same time.”

“Me too,” Stiles said. He worked at a rhythm. He was already slick with precum and Derek’s mouth. It wasn’t long before Derek was just as slick. Their mouths were touching, but they were panting too much to call it a kiss. What he didn’t say was that he’d also fantasized about docking with Derek, hoping Derek’s foreskin was loose enough to play.

Derek groaned. “It is.”

Stiles froze. “I didn’t say that out loud.”

Derek’s hand came up and he pushed Stiles’ hand down to both of their straining erections. “Come on! You didn’t say it, but you were broadcasting it like crazy.”

Stiles got with the program, but then purposely thought about the image he used to masturbate to when he was in high school, involving them docking.

“Stiles!” Derek froze and then shot all over Stiles’ chest. 

The heat of the cum and the realization that Derek could actually see what he’d thought about sent him over the edge, as well.

 

Stiles was still toweling his hair dry when he heard the door downstairs open. He’d conjured up fresh clothes and was slipping his feet into his shoes when he heard Cora laugh.

Once they’d told her why she was there, he wondered if she’d still be laughing. Then again, he and Derek had both survived it. She was tough, she’d be okay. Besides, once she got past the shock, it was great news.

He got halfway down the stairs when she spoke. “There he is.” 

Cora hadn’t changed much over the years. Like Derek, she seemed timeless. He grinned, and walked over to her, taking her in a loose embrace.

“So, welcome to the family, bro.” She looked delighted. “When did all this happen?” She turned to Derek. “You didn’t mention this to me the last time we talked.”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. He’d let Derek take that one. “Want something to drink, Cora?”

“Water would be good.” He looked toward the door and saw her bag. As he was turning to the fridge, he saw the bed, still unmade. With a quick flick of his hand, the bed was made.

“What the hell did you just do?” Her voice was strident, and she was staring at him like he was something evil to be destroyed.

“Uh, yeah.” He pulled the water out of the fridge and handed it to her. “There’s been some things.” He nodded, his lower lip jutted out. “We need to catch you up.”

“You think?” she responded. She whirled to face Derek. “Since I spoke to you last week you’re suddenly Stiles’ mate? Not that that is surprising. I could see it when I lived here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Was there anyone, anyone who wasn’t going to say that to him??

“And,” Cora continued, “He is some sort of magical I-don’t-know-what?”

“It’s complicated,” Derek moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, pitching it to her.

Cora caught it easily and uncapped it. “Uncomplicate it.”

Derek nodded his head toward the couch, and all three sat down. Stiles had to bite his tongue to keep from butting in as Derek retold the tale. 

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Cora said. But her face was working hard to fight back emotion. “Call them,” she bit out. “Fuck that.” She pulled out her own phone. “I’ll call them myself.” 

As what should have been a dead phone rang and then connected, Stiles saw Cora swallow hard.

“Hello?” Talia answered the phone.

“Mom?” Cora barely breathed it out. 

“Who is it?” they could hear David in the background.

“Dad?!” Cora held the phone so tight, Stiles was surprised she didn’t crush it. Even still, she launched herself across the couch and landed in Derek’s lap, holding him to her as she sobbed. “Oh my God.”

“Cora?” Talia asked.

“Mama,” Cora cried and then buried her head in Derek’s chest.

Stiles bit his lip, unsure what to do, but Derek nodded at him. ‘Take the phone.’

The phone was now lax in Cora’s hand, and Stiles gently pried it away. “Hey there,” he said to the Hales. “Cora’s here. And they’ll be on their way to the house shortly.”

“Is she –? Talia asked, her voice none to steady either.

“She’s a little shocked,” Stiles said. “Understandably.”

“Of course.”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Give them a few and then I’m sure they’ll hit the road.” He looked back at the siblings and his heart melted a little. He’d never seen that much affection between Derek and Cora, and he could feel the stuttering emotion as Derek tried to keep his own composure, sweeping through Derek, as well.

“Thanks, Stiles,” Talia said. “We’ll be here.”

Hanging up the phone, he let out a quick puff of air. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way.”

Cora pulled back, looking between them. “I ought to rip your throats out for lying to me.”

Stiles threw up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t lie to you.”

“Thanks for the support, Stiles,” Derek said, his voice wry. "And it wasn't exactly a lie. There was something to do with the house."

“Hey man,” Stiles said. “No point both of us dying.”

Seemingly pulling herself together, she moved off to Derek’s side to sit, though they remained in physical contact, with Derek’s hand resting on her neck. “Start from the beginning.”

Derek looked at her quizzically.

“Yes, from the beginning. Again,” Cora confirmed. “I need to hear it again.”

This time Stiles took turns explaining what had happened. She’d demanded to see him perform some magic, which he was happy to show her. He unmade the bed, remade it, created five-pointed stars of lights, changing their color just for fun.

“You’re creating something out of nothing?” she asked, incredulity evident in her voice.

Stiles frowned. ‘Shouldn’t she be more interested in seeing your parents?’

‘She’s processing,’ Derek responded via the bond. ‘She’s always been this way.’

“What are you two freaks doing now?” 

“We’re telepathic now.”

“Oh yeah, the mating bond.” She looked cross. “Well stop it, it’s rude.”

Stiles thought about a smart response but then bit it back. After all, it wasn’t every day a girl got her parents back. “Sorry,” he said instead.

“So what else?” she demanded. 

After they assured her they'd told her everything, she was somber. “On one hand, it is amazing to get our family back. On the other hand, it kinda sucks about Laura being up in the air.” She was quiet for a minute. “It must really suck for mom and dad.” Her throat worked, swallowing hard as if she was fighting down emotion. But she stood, purpose in her stance. “Let’s go.”

Derek stood, his hand back on her neck. “You got it.” He looked at Stiles, who was still sitting. “You not going?”

“Well, I…” Stiles trailed off. While he was technically family, he didn’t want to intrude.

“Oh hell, yes, you’re going,” Cora said. 

“I didn’t think you’d want –”

“Shut up,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a Hale now.”

‘You sure?’ Stiles asked Derek.

‘She wants you there. You’ve been an ally of mine and Cora’s for a long time.’

He smiled at the siblings. “Alright then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

‘You can always hide out in the library,’ Derek teased.

Stiles stood up so fast he almost gave himself vertigo. ‘You’re on!’


	16. Talia

“They’re here,” Talia said and moved toward the front door.

“It’s about damn time,” David growled, sounding a little more like a wolf than he really should have.

“Honey,” Talia stopped, waiting for him to join her. “Our girl is stubborn. Remember when she lost her first tooth?”

David chuckled. “You mean the one where she almost swallowed it because she refused to let us pull it when it was loose?”

“She was convinced that it would heal itself since she was a wolf.”

“I don’t know how many times we had to explain about baby teeth,” David finished as he slid in behind her, his arm around her waist.

“Chances are Derek and Stiles had to explain it to her over and over.”

“Fair point,” David said.

They stood at the open door, waiting for the car to pull up and park. David nuzzled her ear, and Talia shivered. While they hadn't enjoyed the quiet of the house, Talia had enjoyed the time they'd taken earlier that day to make love. They'd come together with an almost manic desire, need thrumming under their skin as if proving they were still alive. 

Hearing someone almost hyperventilating, Talia pulled away. “Cora.”

A woman stepped out, and it stopped Talia in her tracks. It was her daughter. She could scent her, the mother-bond between them sprang to life, yet: how could this slim woman standing be her young child?

Derek had looked so much like her own father, save his eye color, that it had been easy to accept him. But this woman. Cora was barely a teen, just on the cusp of young womanhood to Talia. Here stood a striking woman who too had inherited her coloring but also had the lower jaw and fuller lip courtesy of David.

“Mama?” Cora said, her voice young like she’d been when Talia had seen her just a few days ago.

David brushed past Talia, sweeping Cora in his arms, tears streaming freely down his face. “My baby, my baby girl!”

His words released something in her, and Talia moved in, wrapping her arms around her husband and daughter.

“Derek,” David said.

Talia was grateful Derek understood the meaning of David’s unspoken request, and he too joined them.

“I didn’t believe it,” Cora said, her voice cracking. “I mean, they told me, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Always our stubborn girl,” Talia said, her own voice so thick with emotion she could barely speak.

“Should we, uh, go in the house?” Stiles asked from nearby. “I can whip up some hot cocoa or something?”

“Or something,” Cora snorted. Pulling back, she stared, first at David, then at Talia. “I can’t believe it.”

“Look at you,” David said. “You’re beautiful.” 

“And so grown up,” Talia said. “I can’t believe –” She pulled herself upright and took in a deep breath. “Stiles is right, let’s go inside.”

As they walked inside, Talia worked to rein her emotions. Yet it felt impossible. Here were two strangers whose passage into adulthood she’d missed. There was no way to replace that.

‘We’re not the only ones, my love,’ David said through the bond. ‘We’re not the only ones that lost their childhood. They did too.’

 

By the time they settled into the living room, Stiles had returned with beautifully crafted mugs of hot chocolate: the whipped cream so high she didn’t know how it was staying put. 

“I put bourbon in the humans’ drinks.” He gestured to two mugs with red-handled spoons in them. “And a safe aconite brandy into the wolves.” He sat the tray down and handed them each a mug.

“Is this caramel on top?” Talia asked, grateful for the safe topic of hot chocolate. It gave her a moment to better compose herself. And the drink was divine. She’d ask for a recipe, but she wondered if he actually had one.

“It is,” Stiles said. “Chances are you’ve missed the salted caramel rage in the foodie world.” He grinned. 

Salted caramel? Sounded interesting. 

“It’s divine,” Cora said, taking a long drink, emptying her mug by half. “Thanks. I needed that.”

Stiles mock bowed, and then picked up his own mug. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband has said I can go through your extensive library. So, I’ll leave you alone to catch up.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Talia said, warmth for this young man growing by leaps and bounds.

Cora scoffed, but Talia didn’t hear real derision in her voice. “Are you kidding? He was going to hide out at Derek’s. We had to practically bribe him.”

Stiles turned beet red. “I didn’t want to intrude,” he mumbled.

Talia tsked. “Oh, Stiles. You can’t intrude.” She wondered how to make him understand. Being part of a family of wolves was even more binding than being in a pack. He was an integral part of who they were now. She, David, and Cora could now feel him, just like they felt one another through their family bond. “You’re part of our family now. You’re part of us.”

If possible, he blushed even redder. “Well,” he scratched his head. “I appreciate it. I really do. Being part of a big family is going to take some getting used to. I’m barely used to being married.” He stopped himself, eyes widening. “Actually, I’m still not used to it.”

Talia stood and went to him, pulling him close, scenting him, his magic strong, oozing off him in waves. “Whatever makes you happy, Stiles.” She gestured toward the back of the house. “The library is all yours. But you’re welcome in here just the same.”

She chuckled as she watched him blush again, and then beat feet toward the back of the house.

Cora demanded that they tell the story again. After they assured her over and over that The Council had assured them everyone would be returned, little by little, the young woman relaxed. “I thought The Council was a fairytale,” she said, sitting down her now empty mug.

“At least you’d heard of them,” Derek responded, tone sour.

The criticism, while deserved, stung. “I owe you an apology, Derek.”

“No, Mom!” He cut in. “That isn’t why I said it.”

“I know son,” she soothed.

They’d sat down, the four of them across from each other after David and Derek had hastily rearranged the living room furniture so that two of the chairs were now sitting next to the couch, the coffee table shoved to one side.

She reached out now, to take his hand, suddenly sorry they were both too old to order a puppy pile. Before. Before they’d have been in the middle of the living room floor, everyone all cuddled down, even though Laura and Derek would complain about being too old.

Her heart sank at the thought of Laura, and then again when she realized how much she missed her other children: Bobby and the twins.

David reached over, immediately feeling her distress.

“Mom?” Derek asked.

“It’s the kids,” David said softly. “The other kids.”

“Its just sinking in what I’ve lost,” Talia said. Being their Alpha, she’d always been careful to present a strong front, but sitting her with other adults, it didn't seem so important. “Derek, I know I didn’t prepare you enough to be on your own.” David had scooted closer and had his chest against her shoulder blade. “No one could have known what would happen. We couldn’t have predicted what happened to you.” She waved her arm to include the house. “To us.”

She took a deep breath. “We couldn’t have known that Peter, of all people, would kill,” she stuttered. “Would leave you completely alone.” She looked at the two adults. “And yet, I failed you. While it is normally held sacred, I wish you’d known who our Emissary was. Not to mention there was a pack fund to help– ” 

“I wouldn’t have used it even if I had.” His voice was laced with bitterness, as he peered down at his clenched hands. “I wouldn’t touch the insurance money either. At least not at first.” His eyes were wet when he looked up. “I used the hate as an anchor. And it wasn't just hatred for Kate Argent.”

Talia ached for her son.

Cora reached over and punched Derek in the arm. “Counseling. Remember? You’ve already walked through all of this. You’ve processed it, amiright?”

Derek looked at her, seemingly torn somewhere between tears and a laugh. “Give me a break. I sure as hell never thought I’d be explaining all of this to mom in this lifetime. It’s a little unnerving.”

“True,” Cora conceded. She looked a tiny bit remorseful. Then she turned to face Talia. “After I got away from Beacon Hills, I definitely had an easier time than Derek.”

Based on what Talia had seen, she’d agree wholeheartedly. And give what she’d seen Derek had suffered, she was grateful that at least one of her children had at least found a happier path.

Cora began talking about the life she’d made in Argentina, taken in by the Santiago Pack. They’d treated her like one of their own, making sure she was educated, loved, happy. A few months ago she’d graduated university in Buenos Aries. Another milestone Talia and David had missed.

Cora had majored in environmental studies and was currently in a gap year before going to grad school. “I’m starting to regret I didn’t major in mythology.”

Talia chuckled. 

“I should have known,” Cora said, slamming her fist against her thigh. “We have a very mysterious Emissary.” She shot a look at Derek. “She makes Deaton look like an open book.”

The look Derek returned was one of disbelief. And fondness. “I’ve met Valeria,” he said. “She’s not that bad.”

From what Talia had seen in the downloads provided by The Council, Derek and Cora had had a rocky reunion. Yet, she sensed the ease between them and was glad of it. Glad they’d found each other.

“Whatever, bro,” Cora said, rolling her eyes. “She talked about The Council. How omnipotent they were. Are. Were. Whatever.” She shrugged. “Seriously, she made them sound like something out of Avalon and the Knights of the Round Table.”

“Well, there is speculation that Merlin may have been of The Council,” David put in, teasing in his voice.

“Dad!” Cora said, her voice sounding so much like she had when last Talia saw her, it made her tears well up again.

“Mom?” Cora asked confusion on her face.

“I’ve lost three of my children,” she said.

David pulled her into his arms. “And you miss the other three.” He rocked her for a long moment. “I don’t know that we’ve ever been away from the twins this long before.”

Pulling herself together, Talia sat up and wiped her eyes. Her own children’s eyes wide as saucers as they stared.

“I always thought you never cried,” Cora said, her voice still small.

“There is strength in tears, mija,” Talia said. She looked to Derek. “Are you too so shocked to see me cry?”

He nodded, opened his mouth, closed it. He swallowed and tried again. “When I became an Alpha I wished I could be like you: strong, never showing your anger or your sorrow.”

Talia sighed and reached for him. He moved out of the chair and met her. “Then I have done another disservice to you. We tried so much to be strong for you. That is what parents do. But maybe we hid away too much.”

“Or maybe, circumstances kept us _all_ from maturing enough to teach and learn how adults handled things,” David said, ever the wise one. He moved to encompass all of them. “Isn’t it a good thing we get a second chance with Bobby and the twins? And I am for one am very grateful to have you both in my life.” David took a deep breath and Talia inwardly laughed at him scent marking Cora and Derek. “Do I wish I hadn’t missed all these years? I do. But I’d rather have you than not have you.” The ghost of Laura hung in the room, and Talia had to bite down on the emotion she felt rising in her throat.

Cora pulled back from the group hug. “So, what about Peter?”

Talia heard the unspoken ‘and Laura.’ Derek tensed up, and Talia felt the pain radiating from David. She sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” she answered.

“We need to understand what’s happened to him,” David reminded. “Maybe we should call The Council.”

“Yes, please,” Cora said. “Valeria will never believe me.”

Talia looked at Derek for his thoughts. He shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt. Stiles needs to ask him about an artifact Deaton gave him anyway.”

And yet, Talia still hesitated. Once they had the information on Peter they were going to have to make decisions that impacted Laura and Scott McCall. Nevertheless, at some point, it had to be done. “Okay.”

Straightening her back, she cleared her throat and then spoke, firmly in control of herself now. “Elysia, of The Council – ”

They appeared.

They all started, Cora half shifted to her beta form before she stopped, shifted back.

“Alpha Hale,” Elysia said, nodding to the group. She took a step toward Cora. “It is a pleasure to meet you Cora Hale of the Santiago Pack.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Cora stated, her eyes wide. She nodded deferentially and then took a step back, into David’s open arm. Talia took a single moment to enjoy the look on their faces as she stepped into his one-armed hug. Then she turned back to the issue at hand.

“We’d like to learn about Peter’s journey,” she said.

“Of course,” Elysia said. “If you and David would take a seat?” 

Cora moved away from David, and Talia saw Stiles as he entered the room, making a quick hand gesture like a wave to The Council. He moved to stand next to Derek, slotting into Derek’s arm held open for him.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Elysia greeted him.

“So, what’s up?” Stiles asked. Talia saw the worry on his face, his body braced as if for bad news.

“They’re getting Peter’s update,” Derek murmured into Stiles' ear, though clearly loud enough for Talia to hear. “I thought you’d want to ask about the talisman from Deaton.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said. But his tone said he wasn’t too thrilled about it.

“Tormand and Terra can provide the feed to Talia and David,” Elysia said, clearly hearing Derek. 

Talia focused on Terra but couldn’t help her curiosity at the small token Stiles took out of his pocket. Seemingly understanding, Terra moved aside, allowing Talia to watch.

“It has the power to keep you grounded,” Elysia was saying, as she took the proffered token. 

Stiles blew out a huff of air. “Deaton told me that.”

“What I mean is, if you use it, like a mantra, like a touchpoint, it will help call you back should you lose your way.”

Talia watched as Stiles’ head snapped back a little. “Like a dampener?”

“Something like that,” Elysia said. “It can activate to help alert you that you’re headed down a dangerous path.”

“So, not like a dampener?” Stiles asked, frustration clearly visible.

“More like an early warning system.” Elysia placed the wood back in his hand. “But only if you focus on it, allow it to interact with you magic, become one with your power. It will require time and practice, much as you might practice meditation.”

Derek snorted, and Stiles gave him a filthy look. “I could meditate if I wanted to,” he said. 

Then he turned to Elysia. “Thanks,” Stiles said. But his tone didn’t match the word. He jerked one shoulder toward the door. “I think I’m going to go back to my books.” He nodded toward Talia and David. “Have fun with Peter.”

 

When Terra moved away, the download of Peter’s timeline completed Talia frowned. 

‘What is it?’ David asked through the link.

“Something isn’t right,” Talia said aloud. Everyone turned to look at her. There was something not right about his relationship with Julia. She turned to Elysia. “Is there more?”

Elysia looked taken aback. “We generally limit these things to generalities for the sake of privacy.”

“But you can go deeper,” Talia pressed. “Maybe I don’t need to see it, but someone needs to review what the relationship between Peter and Julia Baccari was.”

Derek’s head snapped up and she felt his anguish.

“She poisoned you, Derek.”

Stiles came running into the room, sliding to a halt.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Talia said. “But she targeted and poisoned you. And I think she had Peter’s help.”


	17. Chapter 17

Fury burned through Stiles’ veins at just the thought of what Peter might have done to help the Darach as questions rang out from almost the rest of the Hales. But Stiles was beyond done.

‘Easy,’ he heard Derek’s voice in his head.

‘Oh, hell no,’ Stiles said, seething with rage. No fucking way was that bastard getting away with it. Again. He closed his eyes, willingly drawing up the magic shooting up through his body. “I’ll kill him myself,” he said aloud.

Silence rung around him and his eyes snapped open, his eyesight limned in gold. “It’s my right,” he said, refusing to back down. “As Derek’s mate.”

“Stiles,” Talia began, her hand held out, but Stiles saw her hesitate. And he read her wariness. The dark part around Stiles’ heart was pleased.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Elysia said, drawing his attention back to The Council. “Now would be a good time to focus on the talisman Master Deaton gave you.”

“Now would be a good time for Peter to die,” Stiles returned, nowhere near ready to stand down.

‘Watch your thoughts,’ Derek said.

Stiles turned to him, his movement so fast that it was a blur. “You too?” He threw his arms up in frustration, letting them clap loudly on his thighs on the downstroke. It sounded like an earthquake, and it was enough to startle him out of the bloodlust. 

He took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the rosewood triskele in his pocket. Logically he knew this wasn’t the time or place, but his magic wanted what it wanted and its persuasion was seductive, as it thrummed its way into his veins.

Nevertheless, he tried to counter the pull. “Look, I don’t want to kill him with a thought.” While he didn’t say ‘that would be too easy’ he knew they heard it anyway.

But he did want him dead. He wanted someone to finally pay for all the shit Derek had had happen to him his entire life. If ever the universe owed anyone a karmic debt, it was Derek.

With his chest still heaving, Stiles forced himself to pull in a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. He pushed his magic back down, focusing on releasing it into the floor, back into the ground below. He felt the talisman in his pocket and he focused on it. 

He felt the pooling resentment, still circling in his chest, at Derek for not siding with him, for mocking him earlier about his inability to meditate. For the concern and wariness in Talia’s eyes when not an hour ago she’d been touting how they were all family now. Even the fear he saw in Cora’s eyes before she quickly shuttered hurt: they’d been friends for years. How could she be afraid of him for wanting to avenge her brother?

Little by little, he felt the magic dispelling, moving away, and his resentment faded, and he was relieved, his body almost collapsing where he stood as he realized he had once again almost lost control.

David touched Cora’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get everyone drinks.” His look encompassed The Council. “Let’s give them a minute.”

Swallowing, Stiles nodded his appreciation as David herded everyone out of the living room, leaving Stiles and Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek began.

The concern in Derek’s voice almost destroyed him. “Don’t Derek,” he said. The last thing he wanted was Derek’s sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He turned, and Derek was there to catch him.

“It’s okay,” Derek soothed, and Stiles felt the love through their bond. 

Pushing love back, Stiles apologized without words. He was so pissed that instead of being focused on Derek and even more shit dropped on him, this had turned this another crisis about him and his damned magic. 

 

Stiles threw his weight against the door of the loft open, wincing at the squeak Derek could never seem to get rid of. It was after 4am and they were both dead on their feet. Talia and David had tried to convince them to stay, but Stiles had felt Derek’s reticence. He’d made up some bullshit that everyone knew was a lie about why he needed to meet Scott at the loft in the morning, so they could take their leave.

“Bed,” Derek said, his voice flat, exhausted.

“On it,” Stiles said, and then they were standing next to the bed. After staving off the angry retributive magic threatening to overwhelm him at the Hales, this quick burst of incidental magic felt pure.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Derek groaned.

“Is that a request for me to magically brush them or to move us upstairs?”

“Neither,” Derek stripped off his sweater and then reached out his hand. “Coming?” he jerked his head toward the stairwell.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Stiles said, sinking down on the bed. He ran his hands over his scratchy eyes and wished the entire pack wasn’t due to be at the loft in less than 12-hours. Between now and then he had to see Allison. The Council had let them know she’d been brought back, along with her mother. 

And if he didn’t call Lydia before she got to the loft there would be hell to pay. 

“Hey,” Derek said softly, but Stiles jumped anyway. He stood, nodding, and then plodded to the stairs to take care of his nightly ablutions.

 

Stiles slipped into bed, Derek already between the sheets. They lay facing one another, eyes locked for long moments until Derek cut his eyes away, to Stiles' mouth.

‘I want you,’ Derek whispered in his mind.

‘I hear a ‘but’,’ Stiles responded, purposely biting his bottom lip. ‘There’s always tomorrow.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Derek snarked back.

Emotion swamped his throat and Stiles stopped trying to tease. ‘I am sure about that.’ He pushed love through the bond. ‘And all I want is what you want. Whatever helps you.’

Derek surged up, pushing Stiles down on the mattress and Stiles felt anger through their bond. “I’m not a victim!”

“But – ” Stiles began, but then snapped his jaw shut at the look in Derek’s purply-red eyes.

As quick as the anger bloomed, it faded, and Derek sank back down onto his side of the bed and Stiles found himself manhandled onto his broad werewolf warm chest.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said.

“Shhhhh,” Stiles hummed, letting his hands skate over the firm planes of Derek’s shoulders. “It’s been a day. Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Stiles opened up his magic, letting it sing through his veins, coursing through their bond and was relieved when Derek drifted off to sleep almost immediately. He on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. He kept replaying the information they’d received over and over.

The Council had agreed to download part of Peter’s timeline into Derek, Cora, and Stiles. In linear time, it had only taken a few minutes. But to Stiles, it felt like he’d lived through years of pain and anguish compressed into a cherry bomb firecracker that had exploded into his brain.

There was no doubt that Peter was a train wreck. But what he’d suffered through while in the coma was unspeakable. He’d been aware of his injuries. He’d known as every single cell had tried and failed to regenerate at the normal rate of werewolf healing. 

He’d felt every bit of pain and loss associated with losing his pack and he’d even been aware enough to know the Argents were involved thanks to his own memories and stray conversation by the deputies, including Stiles’ dad, when they’d visited him in the hospital.

As The Council had shared more of Peter’s timeline there was a stark divide in the room regarding how in control of his faculties Peter was when he’d killed Laura. Yet there was no question that Peter’s relationship with Julia Baccari AKA Jennifer Blake went back years.

Sighing, he slid off Derek’s chest but grinned when a hand grabbed a hold of his arm. “I’m not going anywhere, big guy,” he murmured. “I’m just getting more comfortable.”

“You should be asleep.” Derek’s voice was rumbly, low.

“You too, babe,” Stiles said, dropping a quick kiss on Derek’s lower lip. “I love you.”

 

“I understand.”

Stiles groaned, trying to get away from the noises that were pulling him back to consciousness. His entire body ached, and his eyes felt like they had boulders in them. The light streaming through the windows and skylight told him it was at least mid-morning if not later. 

“I’m on my way,” Derek’s said.

“Coffee,” Stiles said. He opened his eyes in surprise when he smelled it immediately. There sat a steaming cup of java in his favorite mug.

“Nicely done,” Derek said, his voice dry. 

Stiles swiveled his head and saw Derek on the couch, completely dressed.

“What time is it?” Stiles scooted up enough to grab the coffee. “And where are you going?”

“It’s 11.30,” Derek said, his voice very flat. “And I’m going to pick up Cora.”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. His entire body was now on full alert as Derek radiated stiffness and pain.

“I knew it last night, but Cora just confirmed it.” Derek's voice was flat, expressionless.

Stiles felt the sorrow through the bond. “Laura.” 

Whenever the argument had come up that if they removed Peter, taking him back to before the fire, which Stiles vehemently was in favor of, he’d seen Talia hesitate. “It’s the True Alpha thing.” 

“It’s so rare,” Derek said like it was a script he’d rehearsed.

Holding his cup, Stiles wished and was suddenly on the couch next to Derek. He pulled Derek to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s worse for them,” Derek said. “Cora just needs to get out of the house for a while.”

“I understand,” Stiles said. “So even though your mom could turn Scott?”

“There’s no guarantee he’d be able to become an Alpha again,” Derek finished. “On one hand, the chances would be better than most bitten wolves, but the circumstances that led to him becoming an Alpha were extraordinary.”

Stiles just kept quiet. He couldn’t imagine how the Hales could make a decision like that. But he was damned well going to honor it.

Now. To break it to Scott.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang is back together (mostly).

After spending way more time than he was comfortable admitting to on Pinterest, Stiles had conjured up high-end appetizers and refreshments for the pack meeting. The tables he’d also created literally groaned with food and anyone who walked away hungry or sober only had themselves to blame.

It had been a tough few days for most of the pack and Stiles wanted to make sure everyone who wanted to could blow off a little steam and have a good time. Or at least as good a time as they could have given the reason they were all there.

The food had looked and smelled so delicious that after hugging him, the first thing Lydia had said was that he’d have to give her the name of his caterer. As he’d just taken a drink of water, he almost bathed her in it, but ended up with a coughing spell, as the water went down his windpipe.

Isaac had bitched and moaned about being called back to Beacon Hill for ‘pack business’ when he hadn’t really been “pack” in years. “I do have friends and family back home and it is the holidays” he’d said. 

Even still, Stiles enjoyed hearing that he was studying art in Paris and was engaged to an attorney named Suzette. He and Lydia spent several minutes in deep conversational French of which Stiles understood every third word.

Jackson, still sneered at Stiles when he saw him, but then pulled him in for a hug. “I even missed you, Stilinski.” 

Stiles pulled back, clapping his hand on his chest. “Oh, don’t man. I don’t think my heart can stand the strain of you missing me.” But they were both grinning, and Stiles was glad he’d come.

After making sure everyone had a drink, Stiles stood back and took in the people in the room. Everyone’s energy was high, happy to see each other. The only people who stood apart were Derek and Cora. 

Cora had hugged him tightly when she’d returned to the loft earlier that afternoon, but otherwise, had said very little about her visit with her parents. She hadn’t brought her bags back, so he assumed she’d be returning there that night. 

Everyone except Isaac had met the new members of the pack, as Jackson did visit occasionally to see his family. Once everyone was formally introduced and had a few minutes to visit, Scott spoke over them, Alpha in his voice. 

His betas and pack members responded quickly, Stiles Dad, Scott’s mom, Jordan, and Deaton also quickly fell in line. It was no surprise at all to Stiles that Scott had to shoot a look at Derek’s original betas, Lydia, Danny, and Malia to get them to settle down.

After his nod, Derek and Stiles joined him at the front of the room, back to the huge windows.

“I’d like to thank everyone for being here,” Scott began. “There have been some developments, and they impact us all, in one way, or another.” With a look, he ceded the floor to Derek.

Derek nodded, looking across at each one of them. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to start, but here goes.”

Derek explained how they’d gone out to the old Hale house a few days ago. He told them about The Council and what The Council had said about the Darach. Stiles saw Lydia and Isaac taking quick glances over at Deaton, who was nodding his head, confirming what Derek was saying.

“What exactly does ‘they’re bringing people back mean?’” Lydia asked. “From the dead?”

“Yes,” Stiles piped up. 

“Anyone?” Jackson asked.

“Anyone tied to wrongs committed by the Darach,” Derek said.

“So, all of those sacrifices?” Lydia asked.

“Among others,” Stiles said. At first, he hadn’t quite understood that. But he was damned glad to find out Tara, from the Sheriff’s office, would be brought back to her family.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “Among what others, Stiles?”

Stiles took a deep breath. This was his part of the explanation now. “The Darach actually began her evil plan several years prior to when we met Jennifer Blake.”

“Even several years before she was left for dead by Kali,” Derek said.

“How far back?” Lydia asked, her tone speculative, looking from Derek to Cora.

Derek acknowledged Lydia’s gaze, nodding. 

“Even further back than that?” Lydia asked, eyes widening. Stiles could see the wheels turning in her mind.

“Further back than what?” Isaac chimed in, his head swiveling side to side, staring between Stiles, Derek, and Lydia.

“According to The Council, her first act of poisoning the timeline occurred when she poisoned Stiles’ mother,” Derek answered.

Lydia looked taken aback. She turned to Stiles. “Your mother?” She looked over at the Sheriff, who nodded. “Why your mother?”

“She was the original Emissary to the Hales,” Stiles said.

The room was silent for a moment, as it sunk into the pack no longer living in Beacon Hills. Stiles nodded to his dad, who rose and headed to the door of the loft. “Be right back.”

Lydia shot Stiles a look that said he was so dead the minute she got him alone. 

The door slid back open and in walked his parents.

“Mom, this is the pack.” He gestured toward his parents who stopped on the landing. “Pack, this is my mom.”

“Are you sure,” Lydia hissed, her eyes flying to Deaton.

“Yes, honey,” Melissa piped up. “Deaton and I checked her, and Derek’s parents out when they returned.

Every head swiveled to Derek and then Cora. Derek nodded confirmation, and Cora did as well.

“Cora?” Lydia asked.

“It’s true,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “I only found out last night, or early this morning, maybe.” She cleared her throat. “They’re alive.”

“Then who else?” Lydia asked.

“Allison, she’s back,” Scott said. “I, uh, saw her yesterday. She and her mother.” His eyes glanced over at his mom, and Stiles noticed Melissa was staring down at her hands. 

Isaac spoke up. “I’m staying with the Argents. So yeah, Allison is back.”

Jackson stood up. “Where is she?” he turned to Stiles, and then offered an apologetic look to the Stilinskis. “No offense, ma’am, but I knew Allison. I’ve never seen you before.”

“I did,” Lydia said, her voice prim. “You were our art teacher in second grade. ‘Mrs. S,’ because no one could pronounce your last name.”

His mom smiled at Lydia, and Lydia walked over, hugging her. “You still smell like lavender.”

“Is she outside too?” Jackson asked, his eyes darting between Scott, Stiles, and Derek. “Why can’t I hear her heartbeat?”

Derek stepped forward, and Stiles moved toward the hallway.

“I soundproofed the loft. And yes, she is here.”

“You have to understand,” Scott said. “She is still 18. She doesn’t remember dying.”

Stiles opened the door, motioning to the girl he had once likened to a Disney Princess. She stepped inside, looking around. “Hi,” she said, flashing the dimples Stiles thought he’d never see again. 

Pandemonium broke out, as Derek and Scott’s old packmates surged off the furniture and surrounded her.

“You’re all so grown up!” Stiles heard Allison say over the talking and the tears.

Stiles laughed, moving away from the crowd, letting them see her for the first time. They’d had a good talk earlier that afternoon. It was mostly one-sided, as Stiles apologized profusely for letting a demon take him over and cause her death. A death she didn’t remember, and one she assured him couldn’t have been his fault if he’d been possessed.

Putting a little Alpha in his own voice, Stiles called above the roar of voices. “Let’s eat and then we’ll tell you the rest.” He motioned his parents toward the buffet laid out on Derek’s island, and the kitchen cabinets.

Lydia approached him. “Let’s see your eyes.”

“What?” he tried to duck away, but she moved with him.

“Let’s see them. What color are they, Stiles?”

Stiles sighed. “I haven’t been bit, and no Alphas have died by my hand. They aren’t red.”

“Interesting,” she said. “You’ve been holding out on me. You’re in so much trouble.”

Stiles grinned down at her, flashing his purple eyes at her, delighted when she didn’t quite contain her gasp of astonishment.

“What did you do, Stiles??”

“Nothing. It just happened.” He nodded toward his parents. “When my mom came back. There is definitely more to the story. But it’s been less than 72 hours, Lyds. Don’t kill me too bad.”

She stared at him, wrapping a curl around her index finger, her lips pursed. “So magic, then?” 

Shaking his head, he just chuckled. There was no getting anything past his redhead. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you.”

Smiling, she looked over her shoulder, jerking her chin at Derek, who was watching them, tenderness in his eyes. “What else haven’t you told me?”

Stiles laughed aloud. “You’re incorrigible. There’s been no time. Literally no time.”


	19. Chapter 19

After everyone had a plate and was focused more on eating than talking, Stiles cleared his throat. “There is more we need to clue you in on.” He turned the floor over to Scott, who explained how he was merging his pack with Talia’s.

He’d already told his current pack and said that they’d taken it well. They’d expressed some concern about what Talia would be expecting of them, but otherwise, they were open to it. Talia and Scott would be meeting with Scott’s pack tomorrow. They’d both wanted to move quickly, to ease any concerns the pack had.

Predictably, Scott hadn’t taken well the news that the Hales had decided to keep the timeline intact. He’d argued with Derek, Cora, and Stiles when he’d arrived earlier that evening. “I’d still be alive. Just not a True Alpha. Laura’s gone.”

Derek and Cora had remained stone-faced, so it had been left to Stiles try and talk Scott down. After a few minutes, when Scott was no more reconciled to the decision, Stiles sent Derek and Cora to the store for alcohol. Not really necessary, but it seemed like the best option for everyone. Stiles knew Scott well enough to know he’d need to cycle through the news a few times, expressing his frustration, before he’d finally settle into acceptance.

“I feel like shit, Stiles.” He looked away. “I feel like I killed Laura, myself.”

“Scotty.” Stiles reached over, put his arm around his best friend. “It wasn’t you. It was all Peter.”

“But –”

Stiles cut him off. “The decision’s been made. Don’t make it harder on the Hales then it already is.”

Scott nodded, but Stiles could see he was still miserable that, even inadvertently, he was the reason Laura wouldn’t be joining the rest of her family. 

Taking a deep breath he decided he'd drop the other bomb that he still was sitting on, hoping Scott wouldn't kill him. “By the way, I got married to Derek yesterday.”

For a moment, there was silence so complete, that Stiles could hear his own heartbeat.

Puzzlement turned to hurt in Scott’s big brown eyes.

“No, no, no, no,” Stiles hurried to tell him. “Not like, married, in a wedding sort of thing. More like werewolf married.”

“What the hell?”

“I know, right?” Stiles laughed. “It was a shock to me too, bro.” He explained what had happened, and how they’d developed a mating bond. “Blame Derek, man. He’s the one who started it. Clearly, I couldn’t have done it, not being a werewolf and all.”

The last few words had been squeaked out of him as Scott pulled him into a tight embrace. “Glad you guys finally got your shit together,” he said, his eyes shining with suspicious moisture. “Make sure I’m the best man at the formal wedding, okay?”

“You got it!” Stiles said, glad to see his friend’s face wreathed in a smile again.

Now, standing in front of the pack, Stiles knew exactly how he was going to demonstrate that his spark had fanned into a flame. He’d decided on a rather showy bit of theatre. He wasn’t completely sure Derek wouldn’t kill him, but he was ready when Scott turned the floor back to him. “My magical inheritance came in when The Council brought back Derek’s parents and my mom.”

“Your what?” Malia asked. 

Stiles explained it, as best he could. Once again, pack members turned to Deaton for confirmation. Stiles didn’t blame them, other than what they’d seen with Stiles’ spark, Deaton was the only magical guidance they had.

“So, do some magic,” Malia said, her tone still very skeptical. Very Malia.

Stiles thought about it and was suddenly standing next to Malia, who was seated on the couch. “Like those mini-quiches? I conjured them up.”

There were some gasps as people realized he’d moved from the front of the room to stand by Malia.

“I also conjured up the three other sofas most of you are sitting on. You don’t remember Derek’s loft being this furnished, do you?”

“Despite my best efforts,” Lydia began, faux sweetness in her voice. “No.”

He conjured himself back to the front of the room. “Ta-da!”

There were murmurings, some impressed, mostly shocked. He looked out over the group, saw Derek, and nodded. Then Derek was standing beside him.

“Holy shit!” Jackson said.

Stiles did a showy, ‘nothing in my hands’ movement, turning his open palms up and down. Once everyone’s eyes were on him, he dropped to his knee in front of Derek. He heard a collective intake of breath, and then he conjured up the platinum band into his palm. It was a heavy, brushed metal band, with a comfortable rounded edge. It was simple, sturdy, and elegant, and was perfect for Derek. “Derek,” he began. “Would you do me the honor of being my husband?”

The room was completely silent. He could feel the emotions so thick he was almost choking on them: shock, happiness, smug-I-told-you-so’s.

Derek dropped to one knee next to him and kissed him lightly. “Yes.”

The room erupted into cheers, as Stiles slipped the ring on Derek’s finger. Within moments, he heard champagne bottle pop, and someone slipped a pair of glasses into their hands.

‘I hope you have another ring for you,’ Derek said, in Stiles’ head.

‘Check your pocket,’ Stiles responded.

Derek pulled out a matching ring from his right jean pocket. He captured Stiles left hand, turning it up to kiss the palm, and then slid the ring on. “I love you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’d have bought you diamonds.”

Stiles waved his hand, and a row of small diamonds appeared down the center of his ring. “Like this?” His heart was beating hard and he could hardly believe the love he saw in Derek’s eyes.

Derek looked down at the ring, then lifted it his mouth, kissing it. “Like that.” He hiked up an eyebrow. “But next time, let me buy it for you.”

“Seems like a waste of good –”

Derek cut him off. “It’s the principle of the thing.” He nuzzled into Stiles' neck. “You’re mine, and I want to provide for you. I need to provide for you.”

“Your wolf?” Stiles guessed, allowing his hips to roll into Derek’s, not caring there were twenty-plus people milling around them, most of them very tuned into them, even if they were pretending they weren’t.

Derek bit down, his fangs making Stiles shiver. “Very much my wolf.”

“Get a room,” Scott called, but his tone was good-natured.

Stiles pulled back and laughed. “Dude, you’re standing in our bedroom.”

Everyone laughed then, and the Sheriff made his way over, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m proud of you boys.” He looked down at their rings. “Nice.” Pulling away from Stiles, he slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family, son.”

And while maybe the dynamic might be different now that Derek had his own father back, Stiles still felt the emotion well up in Derek. Stiles knew how much his dad’s respect meant to Derek. 

Derek pulled completely away from Stiles and embraced the Sheriff in a manly hug. “I couldn’t be happier to be part of your family, sir.”


	20. Chapter 20

Lydia sidled up next to Stiles. “I thought The Council was just a legend.”

Stiles looked at her. “You’d heard of them?”

“Yes, Stiles. I had.” She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “You always did skip the in-depth readings.”

“Hey!” he began, mock offended. “Our high school G.P.As weren’t that far apart.”

“Hmmmm,” she said. “But still far enough that I was Valedictorian.”

Allison walked up. “Oh no! Do I have to finish high school?”

Derek spoke up. “I have a 16-year-old brother who will be in the same boat.” He nodded toward Claudia. “Stiles’ mom is a teacher. She and my mom were talking about her private tutoring Bobby through the rest of high school.”

Brightening immediately, Allison beamed. “Do you suppose they’d be okay with me joining them?” Her face dimmed a bit. “I mean. Does your mom know that we’re hunters that have seen the light, and are on the right side now?”

Derek nodded. “I’ve spoken to my parents about our history with the Argents. They know we’re in a good place with your dad and have been for a few years.”

But Allison still looked concerned.

“Hey,” Stiles cut in. “My mom could still tutor you too. Even if it is separate from Bobby.”

She shot him a relieved and grateful smile. “Thanks, Stiles. I’ll talk to my dad. I just don’t think I can go back to high school.”

Lydia linked her arm through Allison's. "Let's not talk any more about high school." Allison nodded, and they moved away, heading toward Malia.

Stiles watched them, glad to see them together again. He wondered what Allison would think of Malia. 

“Hey there,” Melissa said, coming up and hugging Stiles. “Congratulations, kiddo.” She was smiling, but Stiles noticed it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Everything okay, Melissa?”

Her mouth trembled. “Stiles. I, uh…I know things are different now, that your mom is back.”

“Oh hey,” he began, pulling her back into his arms. “No, no, no.” He hugged her tight. “Don’t even, think that. Ever.” He pulled back, looking down into her caring, eyes, now filled with tears. “You raised me, Melissa.” Stiles choked up too. 

Melissa had been his mother longer than his own mom. How could he have not thought about how his mom’s return impacted her?

‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ Derek said, via the bond. ‘It’s been non-stop.’

“Melissa,” he managed to get out. “You…and Scott…I always hoped…well, you know.”

Melissa swallowed, tears pooling, but she nodded. Scott and Stiles had certainly made clear to everyone, that they wished their parents could get together so they could be legal brothers. “But you, you will always be my mom.”

Scott must have picked up on the emotion and was headed over, concern on his face. As he drew closer, Derek stilled him, with a hand.

Stiles pulled her close once again, settling his chin on her head. He could see his father watching them. It looked like he’d already figured out what was happening. “I’m one lucky guy,” Stiles said his voice breaking. “I’m going to have both of my moms at my wedding.”

They both choked up then, and Derek joined Scott, shielding them from prying eyes. Most of the werewolves knew what was happening, but they could at least give them the illusion of privacy.

But Melissa was made of strong stuff, and she pulled away. “Hey, what are we doing, crying at your engagement party?” Wiping tears away, she reached up, laying her hand on Stiles’ cheek. “I love you, Stiles. You’ll always be part mine.” She kissed his cheek, and then turned, slipping her arm around Scott’s waist. “Let’s go find me a drink, okay?”

Scott smiled, nodded toward Stiles and Derek, and then led her away.


	21. Chapter 21

The party was in full swing two hours later when Stiles, Scott, and Derek received a simultaneous text.

Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widening in surprise. He felt questioning coming from Derek and then saw Scott moving toward them. 

Chris Argent was outside and wanted to speak with them. There was no way they were all getting out of there without someone noticing. “Hey guys,” Stiles said. “Me, Derek and Scott, have a thing. We’ll be right back.”

Standing between Scott and Derek, Stiles could feel the uneasiness move through the crowd. The Sheriff intercepted them at the door. “Problem?”

Stiles showed him the text and he sighed. “I’m coming with.”

“Keep drinking,” Stiles said, which got him twin disapproval looks from Melissa and his mom. “We’ll be right back.”

They found Chris at the elevator. He nodded to the Sheriff. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

This was the first time Stiles had seen Chris since The Council turned up. He looked grim, which caused Stiles’ heart to beat faster, adrenalin and his magic ramping up, as well. Chris should be ecstatic with his family back. 

And yet.

Derek pointed them toward one of the apartments they’d refinished. Derek had upgraded the building security, and now it required a palm print, or to be with someone who had access, to enter the building at all. As such, the door wasn’t even locked. Stiles had just finished outfitting the apartments on the floor a few hours ago and was planning on showing them off to the pack this evening.

“I’ll assume this isn’t good news,” the Sheriff began, once they were inside.

“No.” Christ turned and faced the four of them. His stance showed he was braced for blowback. Stiles was 100% confident he was strapped.

“There is no easy way to say this,” he began.

Stiles felt Derek brace himself and saw Scott do the same.

“Kate is alive and headed this way. She’s heard that the Hales are back and she plans to finish what she started.”

You could have heard a pin drop for a long moment.

Then Stiles exploded: “Are you fucking kidding me?! What?? Why??”

“It gets worse,” Chris said.

Stiles opened his mouth to say he didn’t know how the hell it could get worse, but then shut it when he felt the pain coming in waves through his bond with Derek.

“I didn’t know she was alive. Apparently, Victoria and Gerard figured she might have survived Peter’s mauling.” Chris’ voice was biting with contempt.

“She survived Peter ripping her throat out?” Scott said. “Where has she been all these years?”

“Running away from the Calaveras in Mexico,” Chris responded. “And there is more.”

“God save us,” Stiles said, unable to keep his mouth shut.

“She is a werejaguar.”

“A what?” the sheriff asked. “Seriously? That’s a thing?”

“It is a thing,” Chris confirmed.

“Why not?” Stiles said. “What’s next, a werebear?”

“But that’s not all,” Derek spoke for the first time, his eyes locked with Chris’ until Chris looked away. “What else?”

“She can create and control Berserkers.”

“Ber-what?” The sheriff asked.

Chris quickly brought them up to speed on Berserkers, explaining the Norse mythology, and how in the supernatural world, they were very hard to kill. Their strength, speed, ability to survive far surpassed werewolves. They didn’t just wear skins and bear bones, they actually become those animals, humanity completely stripped away.

He explained how the very first Berserker death he ever saw took three hunters and hundreds of rounds of ammunition to take it down.

“My mother can kill one,” Derek said, his voice tight. He turned to Scott. “We need to call her.”

“There is one more thing,” Chris said.

Stiles groaned. “Of course, there is.”

Chris took a deep breath, then said. “She is headed this way because Victoria called her.” He pulled out a cell phone and tossed it on the table. “This is the phone she used to talk to Kate.” He looked chagrined. “I’m sorry. Getting the phone was the best I could do.”

They all stared at the phone as if it was a poisonous snake for a long moment. Then Stiles reached for it. “Danny’s here. If anyone can get us information on where Kate was, it’s him.”

“I don’t even want to know,” The Sheriff said. He scratched his head. “In fact, I’m sorry I know this much.” He looked at Derek, “As a law enforcement officer, you should be too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry alright,” Derek said, his eyes furious. “But we’re not bringing her in. There isn’t a cage in the holding cell that could hold her.”

“Then what do we do with her?” the Sheriff asked.

“What do we do with his wife?” Stiles demanded. “We left the decision to bring her back to you. And look what happened!”

“If she gets anywhere near Derek, then Mrs. Argent is aiding and abetting a wanted criminal.”

Stiles whirled to his dad. “Dad! Kate is dead.” He felt Derek’s pain, and his own magic, curling up his legs, trying to help. Stiles forced it down.

“Believed dead, Stiles.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “Chris, what do you want to do?”

Chris’ shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I just knew I had to tell you, as soon as I could. I have Isaac’s luggage and a bag packed for Allison. I’ll put us in a hotel. I think it is safe to say Victoria is in the wind.” 

“You can stay here,” Derek said. “This building is safer than a hotel.” 

“Good point,” Stiles said. “The last thing we need to have Kate decide to go after you guys because you’re traitors or something.”

Chris nodded, shoulders slumped. He looked at Stiles and Derek, noted the wedding bands. “It looks like I ruined a celebration.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Stiles said, still hot.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff called him down. 

“I guess the party’s over,” Scott said. He looked at Derek. “For form’s sake, who should call your mom? You or me?”

Derek scoffed. “Protocol says you should do it. But given the subject matter, let me talk to her.” He sighed. “Get the phone to Danny.” He turned to Stiles, “Clear off or get us a couple of tables. We’re going to need a war room.”

Stiles waved his hands and the existing furniture was gone. In its place were standing tables and a variety of stools for those who would prefer to sit. On two walls were whiteboards, and there was a standing glass whiteboard like the one Stiles had in his bedroom at his dad's house.

Stiles almost laughed at the look on Chris’ face. It was the closest he’d ever seen him so shocked.

“I’d heard,” Chris said. “But it didn’t prepare me.” 

Scott plucked the cell phone out of Stiles’ hands before heading toward the door. “I’ll go tell the group.” He stopped, and then laughed, though it sounded bitter. “For the first time ever, all our resources are in one place.”

Stiles watched Derek step into one of the bedrooms before he moved into the kitchen, whipping up coffee makers, and filling the refrigerator with energy drinks, soda, and water. It was probably going to be a long night. He turned back to find Chris watching him, his eyebrow raised. “So, Chris. Be thinking about what you know about where Kate might be and where she might be hiding out.”

Within minutes, the apartment door opened and in flooded Lydia, Danny, Cora, Allison and Jordan.

“Dad,” Allison cried out. Chris embraced her, then pulled her further down the hall.

Lydia looked around the main room. “Stiles. We need computers, preferably ones loaded with all the bestiaries you have access to.”

“Where’s Derek?” Cora asked, braced for a fight.

“First bedroom on the left,” Stiles answered. “Talking to your mom.”

He glanced at the tables, and four laptops appeared. “Bestiaries at your command, fair lady. We need to know everything we can about werejaguars and Berserkers.”

“On it,” Lydia said, as she and Danny slid into seats and opened laptops.

“What can I do?” Parrish asked. 

“Hopefully kill a Berserker,” Stiles said. “We seem to be short on people who can actually do that.”

“Give me time,” Lydia trilled at him. “I’ll find something.”

Parrish slid into the seat next to Lydia, and Stiles couldn’t help but smile. He’d always thought those two would be good together. Shame they live coasts apart.

Derek stepped out of the bedroom, followed by Cora. “I’m going to go pick up my parents.”

“What?” Stiles asked. There was no way in hell Derek was leaving the building when they just found out Kate was probably nearby. “Why?”

“There no cars there,” Derek said. 

Stiles panicked. “I don’t want you out there. Maybe I can bring them here?”

Derek’s raised eyebrow said it all. 

“No, seriously,” Stiles pressed, a little hurt by Derek’s lack of faith. “I’ve been able to move us around.”

“You haven’t tried any long distances.”

Stiles furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “Hold on.” 

Stiles was suddenly standing in Derek’s loft. 

“Jesus,” he heard Jackson say.

“Hi, guys. I need a werewolf volunteer willing to let me magically shift you from here to the apartment next door.”

“Stiles!” His mom called out, rushing to his side, barely beating Deaton there. “That is very dangerous.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Deaton said, eyes grave. “What if you landed them in a wall?”

Malia walked up. “I’m game.”

“Malia,” Deaton said, concern in his voice. “He could accidentally kill you.”

Malia flung her arm around Stiles. “He won’t though. I trust you.” She gave him an exaggerated buss on the cheek. “Just like you trusted me not to kill you during that first year of full moons.”

Stiles straightened and said to Deaton. “You’re the one that taught me it was all about belief.” He looked at Malia. “Ready?”

She nodded.

She was gone.

Stiles phone vibrated with a text. Malia was next door. Safe and sound.

Deaton leaned forward, his voice earnest. “Stiles, this kind of magic should be burning you up. Magic is transactional. It shouldn’t be used for frivolous things.”

Stiles felt his magic shooting us his legs. “Frivolous?” He felt his eyes limn golden. “Saving my husband’s family from that bitch? That is not frivolous. I will do whatever I have to, to protect them.”

The room had fallen silent, as he spoke. He broadened his message to include them all. “Kate Argent will not hurt anyone else that I love. This building is secure. I’ll arrange sleeping quarters for everyone here. This time, we’ll bring the fight to her. On our terms.”

He turned and walked to the door. Scott reached him at the threshold. “That was awesome, dude.”

Stiles eyesight had returned to normal by the time they walked the short distance to the ‘war room’ apartment. His dad met him at the door. “We, uh, heard what you said. It was kind of broadcasted throughout the building.” The Sheriff pulled at his ear like he did when he was nervous. Maybe one day, Stiles would clue him in about that tell. “We need to talk, son.”

“No,” Stiles said, and ignored the hurt look on his father’s face. “Not now,” he amended. “I want the Hales here, so they are protected.” He turned to Derek. “Please let them know I’m bringing them here, so they're ready.”

Derek nodded, but Stiles could see the concern in his eyes. He wondered if it was for his parents’ safety, or if, like his father, Derek was worried about him.

Within a few minutes, both Hales were standing in the kitchen, intact. Derek introduced them to everyone, including Chris and Allison.

“Alpha Hale,” Chris said, head bowed. “I am terribly sorry for the pain my family has caused yours.” He pulled out a knife, and Allison opened her hand. He sliced a shallow cut across both of their palms. “By the letting of our blood, we commit our troth with yours.” 

Talia nodded, then slid out one claw and sliced open her own palm. Reaching over, she shook hands with Chris first. “We accept your troth.” Then moved to Allison.

Allison looked down at her palm where Chris had cut it. While there was blood there, the cut was healed. She bowed her head to Talia. “Thank you, Alpha Hale.”

Chris spoke again, his voice humble. “I’d heard rumors of your abilities.”

Talia nodded. “My status here as a descendant of the creator of Beacon Hills, as well as it being under my protection, has afforded me some additional Alpha capacity.”

Stiles felt goosebumps run up his spine. That was real power. 

His father stepped closer, grabbing his elbow. “We’re talking. Now.” Stiles found himself forced down the hall to the second bedroom, as Derek continued the introductions of his parents.

“What the hell, Stiles?” his dad said, barely getting the door closed. “You could have killed the Hales. Again!”

“No, Dad, I couldn’t have.” Stiles sighed. “Magic is about belief. So long as I believe I can do something, then I can.”

“I don’t like it.” 

Stiles kept his mouth shut. He could tell when his dad was wound up, and he was.

“What did your mother or Deaton say about what you planned to do?”

Stiles looked away. “They, uh, didn’t exactly know about that part of the plan.”

“But it sounded like they weren’t happy about you shifting Malia either,” his dad pointed out. 

“Dad, I don’t know what to tell you.” Stiles threw his hands up in the air. “That woman is NOT going to hurt Derek again.”

“I hear you, son. I’m 100% with you. But you should talk to The Council.” The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh my God.”

The Sheriff just stared at him.

Stiles flailed. “Fine? Okay? Let’s live through this crisis, and I promise I’ll talk to them.”

The Sheriff closed the space between them, opened his arms, and reeled Stiles in. He dropped a kiss on Stiles' forehead. “I’m proud of you, son. And I love you. But please, please be safe.”

Stiles hugged his father hard. For so many years, it had been just the two of them. He completely got it. “I’ll be safe, Dad.” He looked over, meeting his dad’s eyes. “You too. You’re as likely to get caught up in this cluster, as I am.”


	22. Chapter 22

As the hours wore on, Stiles moved down to the next floors in the building, creating apartments for people to stay. Melissa had initially protested, but Scott and Stiles had taken her aside and talked her into staying with the pack. With Kate on the loose, it was too risky for Melissa to go home. After helping to clean up the food in Derek’s loft, she’d had retired to an apartment to get some sleep.

Chris was working his contacts in southern California and Mexico, including the Calaveras, trying to pick up a bead on where Kate might be. The news coming back was grim. Kate had killed her way through a lot of people and werewolves in Mexico, using her Berserkers as her offensive line.

Parrish, the Sheriff, and Derek commandeered the glass whiteboard and set up as if they were working a case, while Danny gave them updates based upon his computer skills, filling in which phone towers had been pinged when Victoria had spoken with Kate.

It turned out Victoria and Kate had spoken half a dozen times, which helped them fill in the route Kate was taking. Chris explained that there was a relay system from way back: a hunter bulletin board, if you would, where people could call and leave messages. Apparently, Kate had been checking it regularly. Only two hours elapsed between the outgoing call Victoria left, and the first call back from Kate.

Kate, of course, was using payphones to call Victoria, once she hit the US border, but had used burner phones while still in Mexico, illuminating her path south of the border.

Talia had taken the opportunity to introduce herself to the new members of Scott’s pack, assuring them that, for now, or at least once they were past the crisis, nothing much would change. She was there to support Scott, and them, anyway she could.

It was after 1 am, when Stiles noticed Talia was talking earnestly with Malia. He wondered if Talia had much experience with werecoyotes. Stiles would love to see Malia more grounded.

They’d broken up before senior year in high school. It had been amicable, and they’d remained friends. After high school, Malia started work as a mechanic in a nearby garage. She said car parts made more sense to her than people. They either worked, or they needed to be replaced.

Finally, at a little past 2.30, the Sheriff called it a night, telling everyone to get some sleep. 

With the Hales tucked upstairs in one of the guest rooms in Derek’s loft, and Cora in the other, Derek finally sat down heavily on the bed. “Your parents settled?” he asked, voice tired, flat.

Stiles reached over, having just slipped under the covers. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Get in bed. We’re safe tonight.”

“Comforting,” Derek said, standing to get out of his jeans.

“Are we any closer to tracking her down?” The last time Stiles had checked, they believed she was already north of the Bay area and closing fast.

“Chris thinks she could be in some of the old office buildings they used to have. They acted as a sort of cover for their hunting.”

“Of course, they did.” Stiles sighed, laying back, feeling the ache in his shoulders, his head. “Thoughts on how to best corral her? Where to do it?”

“Somewhere to minimize collateral damage,” Derek said, sliding into the bed.

“Do we know how to kill her?”

Derek sighed. “Killing her is just like killing one of us. That will be the easy part.”

“Are we going to kill her?”

“I want to.” Derek admitted.

“If we took a vote, more people than not would agree with you.” Stiles sighed. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. His dad, even knowing what Kate had done, would have a hard time with them killing her. 

“Has Chris expressed an opinion?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Chris says he has a place he can take her. 

“Do we believe him?”

“I don’t know.” Derek turned to Stiles. “What do you want to do?”

“Kill her slowly, painfully. Bring her back and do it again.” Stiles could see the worry in Derek’s eyes. And he knew his own eyes were cold. “Surely you’re not surprised?” How could Derek think he'd want to do anything else? It was only yesterday he'd been ready to kill Peter for something he'd done years ago. There was no way in hell he wouldn't kill Kate Argent given the chance. 

Derek just looked quizzical. 

“I’d kill her 30-ways to Sunday, and never feel a damned thing but grateful she can’t hurt you anymore.” He shrugged. “But like I said, I don’t think I’m the only one.”

“Stiles,” Derek began. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in this.”

“Derek!” Stiles felt his magic rising. “Are you kidding me? She is like every other supernatural thing we’ve had to put down that was trying to kill us.”

“No, she really isn’t.” Derek reached over, running his hand over Stiles’ arm. “She is psychotic and has an ax to grind. She is the worst sort of serial-offender. And I don’t want you to get killed.” 

“Okay,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to fight with Derek, but there was no way in hell he was sitting this out. So far, he’d tried his hand at household magic and transportation. And his magic hinted at so much more. What could he do in terms of weaponry, he wondered? 

But right now? Right now, Derek needed to rest. And it wouldn’t hurt Stiles either, truth be told. They could resume this discussion later.

Stiles scooted closer, laid his ring hand on Derek’s chest. The metal, warm from his skin, still felt odd on his hand. “Let’s not forget the best part of the night.” 

Derek moved his left hand, so it was next to Stiles. “You could have given me some warning,” he groused.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stiles said. He moved, and then captured Derek’s mouth in a long, soul-destroying kiss. “I’d planned on consummating our bond tonight,” he murmured. 

“Soon,” Derek said, licking up into Stiles' mouth. “I promise.”


	23. Talia

Talia stripped out of her clothes, putting on a soft green and lavender pj’s that Stiles had somehow correctly sized for her. 

“He’s kind of amazing, isn’t he?” David asked, holding up his own pair of sleep pants.

“He’s a little bit frightening,” Talia said. 

“True. I’ve never seen anything like it,” David said. He shifted the duvet back and climbed into bed. “Are you going to talk to Claudia?”

Talia sighed. “I’m not sure it would do any good. Stiles is still hesitant around her.”

“Want to me to talk to John?”

“Let’s wait,” Talia said, climbing into her side of the bed, moving closer to her mate. “He has good taste in bedding.” She sank into the memory foam. 

David chuckled, and Talia snuggled into this chest. She was relieved to finally be behind closed doors, to allow her mantle of Alpha to slide away, and seek comfort from David. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about the return of Kate Argent. “So, she’s alive.”

David pulled her closer. “Yes.” His tone was flat, and Talia knew and felt he was as angry as she. “What do you think of the group working on a ‘solution’?”

It was a good question. “I’ve never seen anything like that either,” she admitted. “I’m shocked that they have lived this way for so many years, that they even have assigned responsibilities. Frankly, I don’t know what to think.” 

“It’s like a well-oiled machine,” David said. “It is an interesting dynamic: local law enforcement, hunters, werewolves.”

“Not to mention a mage, a handful of humans, and a banshee.” It hurt her heart to see those young men and women acting like soldiers, plotting strategy and back up plans. They discussed and discarded several places in the city to try and draw Kate to, trying to avoid civilian casualties, never mind exposing even more people to the supernatural.

Almost all the people in the ‘war room’ spoke with ease in law enforcement and hunter terms. She saw the respect that Stiles had for his father, and his deputies, including her son. While occasionally a dispute would arise about a particular tactic and Stiles would get shot down for wanting to do something too dangerous, all in all, she could very well see him joining these men into the Beacon County Sheriff Department.

Talia had also kept her eye on how Scott McCall interacted with the group. He’d been quick to let the others, the ‘experts’ as he’d said to her as an aside, handle things that weren’t his forte. He’d acted more as a facilitator, making sure people had what they needed, even going to get it, if necessary.

She’d watched Scott interact with the pack members that remained in Derek’s loft. He played the role of counsel, there to listen when others brought him their concerns. He treated each with a kind word, a gentle smile. She appreciated the reverence in which he held his mother, and the deference he displayed to Claudia, as well as Talia herself.

Watching them all, it began to sink in what she’d agreed to take on. There had been very few skirmishes like what this pack had lived through, during her tenure as Alpha. The addition of Scott’s pack, including the human allies, who were very much integrated into the pack, in addition to Derek’s betas, once they returned, more than doubled her pack.

It would take considerable time and personal management to merge them in. Suddenly, she felt very tired. Deep in thought, she started when David spoke again. 

“I think it will be even more interesting when someone has to decide how best to handle the werejaguar.” 

Talia heard the disgust in his voice and understood. Given a chance, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t just kill her on sight. Never mind Kate killing Talia’s family, the abuse of her son alone gave her certain rights, that few in the supernatural world would argue against.

“I know,” she said, letting the exhaustion show in her voice.

He pulled her even closer and kissed her forehead. “You’re all in, aren’t you darling?” They stayed that way for long moments, long enough, Talia thought she might fall asleep even with the light on.

“Who was the young woman you were talking there toward the end? Malia?”

Talia sighed. “Yes. Malia Tate.”

David’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Tate. Why do I know –” He broke off, eyes widening. “Are you kidding?”

“She’s a werecoyote,” Talia said, her voice dry. She hadn’t been sure, at first. But she’d been drawn to the girl as soon as they arrived. There was something about her mannerisms that reminded her of Laura. It had pained her to see the resemblance, given the decision they’d made, but it was there, nonetheless.

She’d been so sure she’d done the right thing when she’d removed the memory of Peter’s daughter, from him. Nothing she could do would convince Corinne to raise the child and Peter, still, a teenager himself at the time wasn’t mature enough to be a father to a child. Talia wasn’t proud of what she’d done, but she’d considered it necessary to save the child’s life, as it seemed both of her parents were less than capable of being parents. She’d handled the adoption to the Tate’s, fabricating documents to make it look like the mother had died at birth.

“What are you going to do?” David asked, no judgment in his voice, only curiosity and the fact that he’d back her up whatever the decision was.

“I’m not sure,” Talia admitted. “She’s now under my protection, as a member of Scott’s pack.” She sighed. “Yet another soul to worry about.”

 

Talia awoke early, weak daylight filtering through the curtains. She looked at David, completely under, and smiled, once again grateful for his soothing presence and quiet strength.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, collected her clothes from the day before, and made her way to the bathroom they were sharing with Cora. When she flipped on the light, she was surprised to see two canvas bags, marked with her’s and David’s names. “Oh Stiles,” she said aloud. “That boy.”

 

Downstairs, Talia saw that someone, probably Stiles, had erected a cloth barrier around Derek’s bed. She crossed to the kitchen, looking for a coffee machine. Seeing nothing that fit the bill, she wondered if even coffee machines could have changed that much since they were gone. Surely not, she thought and moved over to where she believed the pantry to be. Inside, she found what looked like a futuristic coffee maker with a plastic basket next to it. In the freezer, she found coffee grounds and took a few minutes to feel triumphant in her scavenger hunt. Before long coffee was brewing and she was digging through the refrigerator, looking for possible foodstuff for breakfast.

She closed the door, and only her werewolf reflexes kept her from startling, as there stood Stiles.

He looked so young, eyes still sleepy, hair mussed, in a threadbare t-shirt and grey sleep pants, that she couldn’t help but smile at him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he responded. He grinned. “I smelled coffee.” He looked over and did a double take. “Oh good, you found the party pot.” He moved around to the other side of the island, and opened a cabinet, pulling out two mugs.

“I found the what?” 

He tried to stifle a yawn. “Sorry.” He gestured toward the coffee pot. “That’s the coffee pot we use when we have parties.” He pointed toward a black & stainless-steel machine next to the refrigerator. “That is the one we use when there is no party.”

She blinked, as she looked at the machine and then at Stiles. “I don’t see a carafe.”

His laugh was charming, and she moved to him as he waved her over. Within a few minutes, he had explained how the machine worked, even showing her where Derek kept the supply of coffee, tea, and hot cocoa, should she so desire.

“Well. I stand corrected. I just said there was no way a coffee pot could change that much.” Standing that close, she could smell Stiles’ scent. He smelled like summertime, ozone, sleep, and Derek.

They were discussing how best to handle breakfast for the entire building when the door of Derek’s loft noisily slid open.

Stiles froze, and Talia knew before she saw, that it was Peter.

“Well, well, well,” Peter said, his voice honeyed. “Sister dear, it doesn’t look like you’ve aged a day.”

Talia took in the man before her. The bond between them was still there. “You’ve aged well, brother.” 

Peter turned to Stiles, zeroing in on the wedding band. “You look ravishing as ever, Stiles. Who is the lucky person?”

“Me,” Derek said. His voice came from over their rights shoulders. It was steel, neither welcoming nor angry.

Peter looked between both of the men, seemingly checking to see if they were joking. Derek held up his matching band.

Peter affected hurt. “And I wasn’t invited to the wedding?”

“No wedding, yet.”

“Just the mating bond, then,” he said.

“Yes.”

Peter took a deep breath, smiled, his face lit up with what looked like sincere happiness. “Well, it’s about time.” Moving toward Derek, he clapped him on the back. “It sure as hell took you long enough.” 

He caught Talia’s eye. “These two have been dancing around each other since Stiles was a child.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I was sixteen!” He ducked into the kitchen, and Talia saw him getting out more coffee mugs.

Peter moved to Talia, his smile still sincere. “I’ve missed you, Talia.” He bowed his head, turning so that his neck was bare. “Alpha Hale.”

Internally, Talia was a whirling dervish of emotion. Here stood the man who killed her daughter. The same man who had caused so much heartache for her son. The same man who had turned a boy who would become a True Alpha. In her head, she was seeing the 20-something Peter was when last she saw him. This man, this man was someone else. 

“Peter,” she finally managed. She threw a grateful look to Stiles who put a coffee cup in her hand.

He also handed one to Peter, then Derek, standing beside her son.

Everyone’s attention drew to the stairs as David clattered down. “Honey – what’s?” He stopped at the bottom, seeing the newcomer. Leaning his head to one side he guessed. “Peter?”

“Got it in one,” Peter said. “Damn, you guys are young.”

Talia thought that was ironic, as every day she was back, she felt she’d aged another ten years.

Stiles tugged on Derek’s arm. “Why don’t we fix breakfast. I suspect your parents will want to talk to Peter.”

The group broke, and Talia could hear Derek arguing that he’d rather fix breakfast with ingredients rather than having Stiles just ‘magic it up.’

Peter jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Beyond the obvious, it would seem I’ve missed quite a lot. Has our young Stiles finally applied his magical ability?”

“You could say that,” David said, tone flat.

Talia filled Peter in on what she knew. Winding up with the news that Kate was still alive, and apparently, now a werejaguar.

“So, she’s not back because of The Council?”

“No,” Stiles called from the kitchen. “You did a shitty job of killing her.”

“Nice,” Peter called back. “And what is our resident Harry Potter planning to do about it?”

Stiles walked in, heading toward the dining room table, cutlery in his hands. “Whatever it takes,” he said. As he spoke, he threw the cutlery in the air. It hovered for a moment, and then carefully, quietly, laid the table. He glanced at the pile of plates sitting on the island in the kitchen. Like Frisbees, they flew across the room, and also landed, without a sound, in their proper places. “Orange or grapefruit juice?”  
Talia saw Peter try, and fail, to keep his surprise from showing on his face.

“Point,” Peter said. “It pains me to say this, Stiles, but that was impressive.”

“You think?”

“I do,” he said. “That was impressive”

“Good. Now, tell us how to kill Berserkers.”

“Why kill them when you can most likely bring Kate to you? Kill her from here?” He leaned forward, hands steepled together, suddenly very serious. “What sort of tests have you tried, Stiles?”

“He’s not killing anyone,” Derek called from the kitchen. 

“But why not?” Peter asked. “It would save all of us a world of hurt.”

“’All of us’?” Stiles repeated. “Are you offering to join the fight?” Talia could see his temper rising from where she sat. She smelled his magic rising, as well.

“Since when do you actually fight?” Stiles said, moving toward Peter. “You’ve never fought alongside us. Ever.”

Peter stood, meeting Stiles. “You could kill her as easily as breathing, couldn’t you?

“Peter,” Derek began, his voice almost sonorous. Talia’s eyebrow lifted at the hint of Alpha she heard there.

Talia held onto David’s arm, as he too, began to move. ‘Let them be, my love.’

He subsided, but the thrum of frustration through their bond told her he’d demand an explanation if one didn’t become apparent.

“Yes,” Stiles said. “I might be able to kill her.” His eyes were limned golden. “But I’d like to try that out on a test subject.” He cocked his head sideways. Talia could see his purple irises.

“What do you think, Peter?” Stiles asked, his voice lower now, sultry. “Do you want to volunteer to be my crash test dummy?”

“That was a terrible band,” he said, standing toe to toe.

Talia stiffened, ready to move if needed, but she doubted she’d beat Derek there. She heard the low rumble of threat in her son’s growl. 

“It was,” Stiles said, voice still soft. Talia adjusted her eyes, able to see his magic fully encompassing his legs, up his waist and through his torso.

When she looked further up, she saw Stiles’ still purple eyes on her. 

“I assume you’ll need a room to further discuss the situation with Peter?” With a flick of his wrist, the anteroom was completely walled and had two French doors.

“Was that necessary?” Peter asked. He gestured. “That little hand gesture.”

“No,” Stiles said, returning his gaze to Peter. Then the doors were gone. Then back.

“I should have bitten you when I had the chance.”

“It wouldn’t have taken,” Stiles responded. Talia felt David’s anxiety ratchet up, and Derek’s growl became more pronounced.

“Wouldn’t it?”

“Magic,” Stiles said like he was discussing the weather. “Then you’d have had two failures on your scorecard.”

“You’re sure?” Peter shot back like he couldn’t help himself.

“No,” Stiles admitted. 

“Oh, Stiles.” Peter tsked, shaking his head. “What an asset you’ll be to Scott.”

“And Talia,” Stiles said. Talia saw the surprise in Peter’s body, as he turned to look at her. 

“Scott’s pack is joining Talia’s.” His voice was still low. “We decided it was time for all of us to submit to someone who could teach us what we need to know about being pack.”

“Any other surprises, I need to know about?” Peter asked, looking at everyone in the room.

“Oh,” Stiles said, a not nice smile spreading across his face. “You have no idea.” 

Talia watched Peter, surprisingly, back down. backing away, playing off his capitulation. “Great,” he said. “Can’t wait.” 

Talia flashed her eyes again and watched the young mage willing his magic back down toward the ground. When she looked up to his eyes, they were back to the normal whiskey brown.  
“Breakfast is ready,” Stiles said.

Talia almost laughed at the surprised expression on Derek’s face. He frowned slightly as the eggs and bacon he’d been working on, appeared next to him on the island: perfectly cooked. A bowl of fruit, toast, and various accoutrements also appeared on the table.

“What’s going on?” Cora’s sleepy voice came from the stairway. Talia turned, and her heart caught in her throat as she looked at her grown 12-year-old daughter. “Oh, coffee,” Cora said, her nose in the air.

Stiles floated a cup in front of her hands, and while she snatched it greedily, she frowned. “That is really freaky.”

It broke the tension, and everyone laughed. Derek carried the eggs and bacon to the table, as the rest of them gathered around.

Cora looked around the table, and Talia hated the caution, the confusion she saw in her daughter’s eyes. “Actually, this whole thing is kinda freaky.”

Derek chuffed lightly, and Talia could see his own wariness in his face. He reached over and touched the small of Stiles back. Stiles’ smile was easier, full of affection, as he looked up over his shoulder at Derek. 

Something inside Talia relaxed, but her wolf was still anxious.


	24. Chapter 24

The door opened, with the Sheriff knocking lightly, just as they were finishing up breakfast.

“Come in,” Stiles called. “And you might as well leave the door open.”

“Thanks for the clothes,” his dad said. But his eyes were still wary, and Stiles hoped they wouldn’t be having another talk about The Council this morning. He hadn’t had enough coffee for that, yet.

“Breakfast?” he asked. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” his mom said. 

The platters of food on the table refilled, and steaming coffee mugs were suddenly sitting at two of the empty places.

“You’re up early,” the Sheriff said. Then he noticed Peter. “Ah. I see. Peter.”

Peter stood up and moved to Claudia, embracing her. “Claudia! It’s been too long.”

Stiles shook his head, weirded out by the thought of his mom knowing Peter well enough to hug him.

Derek helped himself to more eggs, and Stiles just eyed him. 

“What?” Derek asked.

“If you’d wanted more food, I’d have made it for you.”

Derek shrugged. “It wasn’t worth making it just for me.”

Stiles reached over and spoke into Derek’s ear. “Anything you want. Anytime: ask. Maybe I need to provide, too.”

They stayed around the table, until additional people came in, and needed the seats to eat. Then they overflowed with their refilled coffee mugs to the couches. 

Lydia plunked down on the couch next to Stiles, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Thanks for the fruit plate.”

Shifting, Stiles put his arm around her, pulling her closer. He kissed the top of her head. “Happy to help.” 

They chatted for a few minutes, talked about next steps for tracking Kate down until the Sheriff stood up. 

“We’d better get to it.” 

“I’ll put breakfast sandwiches in the ‘War Room’,” Stiles said. “Coffee’s already brewing.”

He stood, tugging Lydia with, murmuring to her as she stood. “As much as I’d like to be a fly on the wall in there.” He cut his eyes to what was now essentially a private room, where Talia, David, and Peter were entering.


	25. Talia

Talia closed the door firmly behind her, then turned to her brother. While she hadn’t necessarily been expecting him this early in the morning, she believed herself ready to face him.

During breakfast, she’d gone back upstairs, changed, carefully tucked two things she’d put in her handbag before Stiles had ‘brought’ them here. Now, she sat in the chair at the head of the room, David at her right. 

Peter across from David. She pulled out the tiny blue bathing suit and laid it on the table in front of her. It had screen printed flowers on the front, and rows of tiny ruffles on the butt. On top of it, she laid a picture of Peter, holding Laura, in the suit he’d bought for her on Laura’s first birthday.

The room grew preternaturally silent, and for a moment, Talia believed that none of them breathed.

“I’ve been apprised of your activities since the fire, Peter.” Talia began. She gazed at him, but he didn’t look up, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from the memorabilia on the table. “And actually, we took a little walk back through your life before the fire as well."

His head snapped up at that, mouth open as if to protest.

“Courtesy of The Council,” she finished.

She let the silence descend, feeling the thrum of love coming to her via her link to David.

Talia lifted her right shoulder affecting a nonchalant half-shrug. “I left out a few salient details when I was briefing you earlier." 

She leaned forward, not blinking as she stared into her brother's eyes. "But before I go any further, tell me why I shouldn’t rip your throat out to avenge my daughter’s death?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about to earn its "explicit" rating.

Hours wore on, and Stiles found himself sick of the war room. Chris had pretty much confirmed Kate had to be in one of four buildings north of Beacon Hills. They were still trying to pick up a digital trace of her for confirmation, but it probably wouldn’t be too much longer before they were ready to decide who was going and who wasn’t. 

Stiles was pretty sure he couldn’t talk his dad out of going, though he’d really like to. The shortlist in Stiles’ brain was: Derek, Talia, Chris, Scott, Malia, Parrish, his dad, and the other wolves. Stiles had heard Chris and Allison arguing in hushed, but harsh tones, from the front bedroom. She demanded to go. He said no way in hell.

At some point, Talia and David had rejoined the group, and Lydia asked Talia several questions about the best way to defeat a Berserker. Stiles knew Lydia would have a lecture for them before they left, complete with diagrams if he knew his best girl at all.

It was the endless, round and round discussions they were having about what to actually do with her once they had her, that had finally chased Stiles out of the room. 

She couldn’t exactly be charged with killing the Hales since they were alive again. That was even assuming they would be able to incarcerate her, to begin with. The stories that were trickling back in were getting scarier by the call. Derek assured them if she was just a werejaguar, she was just as susceptible to death as the wolves were.

The Sheriff had conceded that as a werejaguar, he didn’t have much hope of locking her up, in any case.

Stiles could tell the group, as a whole, were leaning toward turning her over to Chris, and frankly, Stiles just couldn’t stomach the thought. What she’d done to Derek, and Derek’s family – now his family? His magic licked up his legs, threatening to consume him. And if it was this bad before he’d laid eyes on her? He wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for his actions.

Saying he needed a break, he headed out. He rounded up the pack and made sure they had whatever level of entertainment they wanted. They’d ended up downstairs in the lobby, which he’d cleaned up a bit, then headed toward the back of the building, where he essentially set up a well-appointed rec room, complete with a theatre that would seat 30.

In the rec room, Isaac and Jackson asked a lot of questions about his magic. Questions, Stiles couldn’t answer.

“Well, what have you tried?” Jackson asked. “Beyond interior decorating.”

“Shut up,” Stiles retorted no real heat in his voice. 

“No, seriously,” Jackson continued. “Can you fly? Leap over buildings with a single bound?”

“Jeez, Jackson,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “If I’m going to be any superhero, it sure as hell won’t be Clark Kent.”

“Well the superheat vision wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Isaac piped in. “If you had that, you could probably take out the Berserkers without even breaking a sweat, right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, seemingly cozying up to the idea. “Think about it: if you had x-ray vision, you’d be able to see exactly where they are in whatever building we find them in.”

“They have a point you know,” Peter said from behind Stiles.

Turning, Stiles gave him the side eye, his fingers curling tight into his palms, as anger blazed through him. “I’m surprised, and more than a little sorry, Talia didn’t kill you.”

“She knows I have my uses,” Peter said, his voice flippant, as usual. “But I’m here to find out what other uses you have Stiles. With your lover boy ensconced in the ‘war room’.” he rolled his eyes. “I thought I’d ask you a few more questions.”

“Good luck,” Jackson said. “He doesn’t seem to know much.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles flapped his arms. “Dude, it’s been three days. And no one in our little circle,” he whipped his finger around, “who knows anything about magic, has ever seen anything like I’m doing.”

“Exactly,” Peter almost purred. “I think you should do some tests.” He moved around them and sprawled out on the couch. “Like I said earlier, I don’t see why you are planning to go into battle, when our young mage here, might be able to bring her directly to us.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Stiles said. He moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out a coke. 

“You know four buildings where she might be,” Isaac said. “We’ve even seen them on Google maps.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Stiles asked, digging through the cabinet. He needed sustenance if they were going to keep talking crazy.

Peter lay his head back on the couch cushion, sighing as if Stiles was the most frustrating person he’d ever met. “Use your magic to tell us which building they’re in.”

“And then what?” Stiles asked, slamming the cabinet door shut. “Do you want me to magically snap her neck too?”

“I would,” Peter said. “But you need to physically separate her neck from her body completely.”

And goddammit, that is exactly what Stiles wanted to do. He didn’t want to see anyone else put in danger, to hurt, bleed, maybe even get killed. How was this his fucking life? He was agreeing with Peter Hale about murdering someone.

“I gotta get out of here,” Stiles finally said, forgetting the food, and the soda. Almost blindly, he left the room, and then stormed out the front door. Ignoring the call of Isaac and Jackson that he wasn’t supposed to leave the building. 

It was cool, the air damp, clammy. He thought of his jacket and found it already warmed, as it wrapped around his body. Even as it warmed him, he knew he wouldn’t stay out. Turning, he saw Derek standing there, on the other side of the glass. 

Stiles felt the fear, anger, and worry through their bond, and he placed his hand on the palm reader, sending warm reassurance through the bond.

“Everything alright?” Derek said, pulling Stiles to him, scenting his neck. “I felt your frustration. And your magic.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said, leaning into Derek. “I…uh…I need a few minutes alone.”

Derek pulled back, looking at him, “’Alone’?” 

Stiles sighed. “I mean alone, away from the maddening crowd.” Pulling back, he looked at the floor. Seeing they were alone, or as alone as they could be in a building full of werewolves, he jerked his head toward the right-side hallway. “Come on.” 

He pulled Derek along after him. Hell, he could do anything, right? He stopped at a door he hadn’t done any work on. Closing his eyes, he envisioned a calm oasis, behind the hall. He opened the door but motioned Derek through.

Derek’s low whistle of appreciation told him he’d hit the mark. The décor was white, billowing white curtains, bedding, the chairs. The walls were a serene light aqua, and there were pops of turquoise décor, to keep the suite from being sterile. 

“There is a beach, outside French doors.” Derek looked back at him, his eyes filled with amazement. “How is there a beach outside?”

Stiles moved to him, ran his arms around Derek’s torso. “I don’t know.” He bit carefully down on Derek’s shoulder, his suddenly bare shoulder. “And I don’t really care.”

Derek laughed, and Stiles’ heart melted a bit. Derek turned to him, fully, both naked. “How do you know I’m interested right now?”

“Seriously?” Stiles laughed, and took another bite, closer to Derek’s throat this time, and enjoyed the groan, Derek couldn’t quite contain. Stiles slowly ground his hips against Derek’s. “You’re going to tell me you’re not interested? You’d better send a memo down below.”

“You’re incorrigible Mr. Stilinski-Hale. Derek growled, and Stiles found himself swept off his feet, and carefully laid out on the bed.

Stiles moaned as Derek licked down his body, then cried out in aggravation, as Derek bypassed his erection.

“I need to taste you, Stiles.” Derek breathed into his balls. 

Spreading his legs wider, to accommodate Derek’s broad shoulders, Stiles was happy to comply. He felt Derek part his cheeks, and then the broad side of his tongue over his hole. Crying out, he tried to push his ass higher, clutching at the sheets. “Derek!”

“I’ve got you,” Derek assured him, then reapplied his tongue, licking incessantly, while Stiles tried to get his ass to relax. 

Derek was persistent, and Stiles moaned and rocked under his clever tongue. Just the barest hint of teeth, caused Stiles to reach for the base of his cock.

“Come on, Derek!” Stiles begged. “I want you in me before I come. Please.” He had a thought. “There is lube by your knee.”

Derek carefully let Stiles back down on the mattress. “Only because you asked nicely.” He grinned, fangs lowered.

Stiles threw his head side to side. “Hurry.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” But Derek’s was already fingering his rim, which was already loosened after the pleasure Derek had bestowed. 

A slick finger carefully breached Stiles, and Stiles bore down on the pressure, hoping to give Derek a feel of what it would be like around his cock. “More.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s face showed concern, but Stiles could see his cock curled up on his stomach and knew it wouldn’t take too much persuasion. 

Stiles moaned, when Derek slid in a second finger, moving it back and forth, to ease the tight muscle. “Hurry, Derek.” He took a deep breath and bore down again when he felt Derek ease in his third finger. It burned but in some a good way. “Now!” he demanded. “Now!!”

Derek chuckled and murmured about “High maintenance and bossy.”

Stiles didn’t care. He’d waited too long for this. There was no way he was feeling bad about demanding his husband fuck him. He gasped as Derek removed his fingers, and then he felt the blunt head of Derek’s cock breach him, and he arched his back, desperate to hurry Derek up.

“Stiles!” Derek cried out and then slid all the way home, bottoming out so that Stiles could feel his balls against his overly sensitive perineum. 

“Yes!” Stiles said, tears coming to his eyes. “Oh my god, yes!”

Derek began to move, holding himself up with one hand, the other one reaching out to clasp Stiles’ hand. “I love you,” he said, pumping slow and easy.

“Yes,” Stiles said. “Faster, please. Faster.”

Derek adjusted, himself, and Stiles literally saw stars as Derek grazed his sweet spot. He hit again, and it took a moment for Stiles to realize they were actually surrounded by stars. They were gold and iridescent and rotating lazily around them. “Derek,” he managed to breath out.

“Magic,” Derek said, voice wrecked, as he kept up a steady pace. 

And like Derek had called it, Stiles magic suddenly roared up his body, encompassing them, causing both of them to arch their backs like they’d been hit by lightning.

“OhmyGod!” Stiles called, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that his cock was enclosed in warm, contracting muscles. “I feel like I’m – “

“ – Getting fucked,” Derek barely got out, his hips speeding up. “Come on, Stiles!” He ground out. “Come. For me.”

Stiles complied, his orgasm shooting out of him so hard, he barely realized they’d come simultaneously before he blacked out.

 

Stiles came to, under the covers, with Derek wrapped around him. He felt his magic coalescing around the cocoon that they were, and he smiled, content.

“You’re awake,” Derek said, voice soft.

“I am,” Stiles said. He turned and kissed Derek gently on the lips. “Hi.”

“I love you,” Derek replied.

“Hey!” Stiles mock protested, looking down into Derek’s sea glass colored eyes. “I was going to say that.”

Derek only grinned back at him. Then he sobered. “What got you so upset earlier.”

Stiles felt his mood drop like a lead balloon. “Ugh.” He rolled his eyes and made to get up. “Let’s go check out the over-the-top bathroom with the oversized two-person tub.”

“You want a bubble bath?” Derek's voice was disbelieving.

“And champagne, and strawberries.” Stiles grinned. 

“I didn’t know you were a romantic.”

Stiles stopped suddenly. “I don’t think I ever have been before.” He reached out for Derek’s hand. “Come on! It’s our honeymoon. Let’s do all the cliché’s.”

 

Twenty minutes later, after a glass of champagne and lazy kisses, Stiles settled back into the vee of Derek’s legs, resting his back against Derek’s chest.  
Derek nibbled his ear. “Okay, now: what happened.”

“Peter had some good ideas about what I might be able to do regarding,” he broke off, waving his hand toward the ceiling. He didn’t really want to invoke Kate’s name right now.

“And you don’t like agreeing with Peter,” Derek guessed. He reached down and threaded their hands together, their wedding bands clinking together. “I love these, Stiles.”

Burrowing back further, Stiles hummed his agreement, as he too admired the wedding bands. “Would you prefer titanium?” 

“This one is perfect,” Derek assured. He kissed Stiles’ forehead. “So, what did he suggest?”

“That I find her with my magic, narrow down the building.”

“Not bad ideas.”

“Kill her from here,” Stiles finished.

Derek was quiet, but Stiles felt his unease through their bond. “I don’t want you killing her.”

Stiles sighed. “That’s the thing. I really want to.”


	27. Chapter 27

Stiles and Derek walked back into the war room, hand in hand.

His dad looked up, gave them a knowing, once-over, and turned away to hide his grin.

“I know where she is,” Stiles announced, causing the room to still at once. He spit out the address and watched Danny pull it up on his laptop, and then it flickered to the wall, where they’d set up a projector.

Chris looked at him, eyebrow raised. 

“My magic,” he confirmed. “They’re there, in the back, right-hand side of the building.”

Chris looked across at the Sheriff, who nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get the team together.”

“I have some suggested tactics for handling the Berserkers, I’d like to share with the group,” Lydia said.

Stiles smiled at her. 

Derek caught Scott’s eye. “I’ll go get Malia, Cora and my mother.” 

Stiles had his phone out, texting Isaac, telling him to bring Jackson.

Before long they were assembled and listening to Lydia provide instructions to the group on how to best handle the Berserkers. She listed key places for the werewolves to focus on. 

She explained the spells and Molotov cocktails she and Danny had worked with Deaton and Claudia on, to hopefully weaken the Berserkers, as well as to help them slow down Kate.

For a moment, Stiles felt like he was back in high school again, surrounded by his friends, as they went over the plan to defeat the Big Bad of the week. Only this time, it was much more terrifying, because it meant more. 

As they were readying themselves to leave, Stiles saw Allison at the door, bow, and arrow, at the ready. Chris sighed, then nodded acquiescence. Allison relaxed minutely, and seeing Stiles watching, she flashed him a grin.

His mother, Melissa, and Deaton were in the hall, assuring the group they’d be there with whatever medical help was needed, upon their return.

They took the stairs and elevator down, meeting in the lobby, confirming who was riding with whom.

“Why don’t I just ‘take’ us there?” Stiles said suddenly. “It would make more sense and give us the element of surprise.”

“Define ‘there’?” he dad asked.

“Well,” Stiles said. “Where ever. Outside the building, inside the building.” He shrugged.

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” Lydia asked, her voice piqued. 

“I just now thought of it,” he defended. “Sorry, I’ve been kinda busy.”

Jackson snorted, and Isaac joined in, bumping their shoulders together. Stiles narrowed his eyes. He didn’t really approve of those two being so buddy-buddy. 

He felt, rather than saw them arrive, but he heard the intake of breath of the pack. Turning, Stiles wasn’t at all surprised to find The Council standing behind him.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Elysia began. “We need to speak with you.”

“As I was just saying,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m kinda busy.”

“It wasn’t a request,” Elysia said, voice stern.

“Really?” Stiles said, his magic flaring. “We’re about to go take care of a homicidal werejaguar who is, once again, trying to destroy Derek’s family.” His voice rose, as he spoke. 

“You must stay out of this,” Elysia said. “It is imperative you are not involved.”

Stiles moved closer. “That is not going to happen.”

“I can detain you," she said

“Can you?” Stiles shot back. He heard his mother’s gasp and looked up to see her on the staircase. “I seem to have abilities unseen by any of our supernatural experts.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” Elysia too moved forward, well into Stiles’ personal space. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Good,” Stiles said. He turned back to the group ready to go. “Inside the building then?”

 

He placed them all in the furthermost corner of the building, away from Kate and the Berserkers. He held up his hand for silence to the group, then placed a silencing spell on the room, to ensure they wouldn’t give away their location.

“We’re good,” he assured them.

His father walked over to him, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “That was amazing. But I don’t think you want to make enemies out of them.”

Stiles shrugged. “A problem for later.” He turned to Chris. “I can get us closer. I just needed to get us out of the building.”

“How close?” he asked.

“Basically, right on top of them, if you want.”

Chris nodded, looked at the Sheriff, who lifted a shoulder.

“Drop us in on top of them,” Talia said. “Position the humans at the appropriate safe distance.” 

“That would work,” Chris said. He looked to Stiles. “Can you position Allison in the ceiling? She can kick out the tiles and do some damage.”

“Me too,” Lydia said. 

“And me,” Danny said. “Assuming the ceiling can hold our weight.”

Stiles nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.” He looked at Chris and his dad. “You guys need to stay at a safe distance.”

“We know,” The Sheriff assured.

“Everyone ready?” Derek asked.

Everyone nodded.

“See you on the other side,” Stiles said.


	28. Chapter 28

They absolutely surprised Kate, when the room was suddenly crawling with werewolves. The Berserkers moved into position, keeping her in the middle, away from the fight.

Standing back with his dad and Chris, Stiles watched as the three in the ceiling rained hell down upon them, while the werewolves and Parrish worked on as many Berserkers as possible. But with each swipe by the berserkers, and Kate that landed, drawing blood, Stiles winced. He could feel the phantom pain of Derek getting hit, and it pained him to see Malia getting hurt.

Kate was taunting them, which might have been the worst part of all. She laughed at Chris, then cursed him for bringing Allison here to try and kill her. She mocked Derek, her voice was crazy, full of sexual innuendo as she laughed at how eager Derek had been to spill his secrets. 

That was when Stiles snapped.

Power flowed out of him, killed the Berserkers immediately, then he had his hands around Kate’s neck, power making him strong, so much stronger than she was. He stilled her body, leaving her paralyzed. “How dare you?” He knew his eyes were gold and purple. He felt his magic begging for even further release. “I could kill you with a thought. Scatter your molecules across the state.” His hands tightened around her neck, her eyes were panicked, and Stiles loved it.

“Nothing to say now, Kate?” he asked, his tone cruel. “Oh wait, you can’t speak, can you? You’re helpless, aren’t you? That is too bad.” He moved her around so that she was facing outward. “Look around. I don’t think anyone here is going to help you either.”

He jerked his head at Chris. “What was it you wanted to do with her again? Were you planning to ship her to some hunter’s rehab or something? Basically, just let her off??”

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was close. “Please.”

“Let’s take her back to Derek’s and decide what to do with her,” his father said. “You’ve obviously gotten her under your control. She can’t hurt anyone now.”

“You feel sorry for her,” Stiles accused, looking between Derek, Chris, and his father.

“No,” Lydia said, jumping down from the ceiling. “But we don’t want you to do something you might regret.”

“You’re not a killer, Stiles,” Scott chimed in.

“Well I am,” Malia said. “I don’t mind finishing her off.”

Talia moved forward, ignoring Kate completely. “Stiles,” she began, her voice quiet, but commanding. Stiles resisted the urge to bare his neck to her. “Stiles, this is not who you are. You killing her will not help the pack.”

Were they right? Was he better than this? He reached down inside, feeling the darkness in him practically salivating for him to kill her. Yet. He also felt Derek’s love coursing through him as well. ‘I love you,’ he heard in his head.

And like it had since this whole ordeal began, Stiles felt himself respond to the bond between them.

“I – ” he broke off. “I don’t know –” 

Before he could finish his thought, they were all standing back in the lobby of Derek’s building. He panicked when he realized Kate was no longer with him.

“She is secured,” Elysia said. “Now. I must speak with you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Everyone,” Melissa called from the stairs above. “I’ll take up anyone still bleeding.” 

Looking around, Stiles was surprised that several of the wolves still were. Talia had warned them that damage from a Berserker would take longer to heal, but Isaac, Jackson, Malia, and Liam were just bleeding, forget healing. Scott, Derek, and Talia seemed to be faring better, and once again, Stiles had a passing thought about Derek and his recently changing eye color.

Lydia and Danny patted his back, as they began the four-story climb back up to Derek’s. Luckily, none of the humans had even sustained a scratch from the fight.

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” Elysia asked.

“There is,” Stiles said. “Right after you tell me where Kate is?”

“She is locked in one of the bedroom’s in your war room, I believe you call it. She is still incapacitated, as you left her. She will be there for handling shortly. This cannot wait.”

Stiles looked around at his parents, Scott, Derek, Talia and David. “How private does this need to be?”

Claudia cleared her throat, and Stiles noticed her eyes were red: she was crying. He whirled back to Elysia. “What the hell is going on?”

“Let’s move to the rec room,” Scott said, motioning toward the room to the left.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Elysia began, once everyone was seated. Everyone but Stiles and Derek. Stiles was fidgeting like he needed an Adderall hit, and Derek stood against the wall, his ‘resting-bitch-face’ firmly in place.

Stiles tried to calm down, not only for himself but also for Derek. Their mutual unease was doing nothing to calm his magic down, nor Derek’s wolf. Stiles could feel it, distinct from Derek, like it was pacing. “Call me Stiles.” 

“Stiles,” Elysia nodded. “We have been monitoring your magical signature, and it has confirmed the conclusions that The Council made once they found how the Darach had poisoned this place.

“What conclusions are that?” Stiles asked, his voice defiant. He gestured toward his mom and Talia. “Every person we know with knowledge of magical ability says they’ve never seen anything like it.”

Elysia had her mouth open to respond when a knock on the door stopped her. 

Scott opened the door, and Stiles was surprised, but really not, to see Lydia there.

“I would like to come in,” Lydia said, her voice confident. “I’ve been doing significant research, and I believe I can be of service.”

Stiles waved her in. Elysia waited until Lydia was seated next to the Sheriff.

“Stiles,” Elysia began again. “Magic like yours comes along once every 3,000 years.”

Stiles felt his mouth drop open, and his stomach clutch. He felt Derek through the link, and his magic tried to reach up to comfort them both. “What does that mean?”

“It means you are of The Council.” Elysia said, her voice as a matter of fact as if she’d been reading the evening news.

“What does that mean?” Derek growled.

“It means Stiles will come live with us and take his place among The Council.”


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles felt his head swim, as harsh words surrounded him. He tried to take a deep breath and found himself unable. Derek was at his side immediately, his warm hand on the back of his neck, comfort whispering through their bond. He guided them both to the ground and began chanting a rhythm to help Stiles concentrate on his breathing.

“You knew!” he heard his father say, and he knew he was accusing his mom.

“I only found out after you left,” she defended, her voice cracking, defeated.

“I don’t understand,” the Sheriff said, his voice still high with emotion. “But know this: you’re not taking my son.”

All of this sounded like it was happening far away, as Stiles fought to regulate his breath. ‘I’m not leaving you.’ 

‘Stiles – ‘

‘No!’ His inner voice sounded desperate even to him. Stiles let some of his magic flow up and into his lungs, and immediately, his breathing eased, and he struggled to sit up by himself. Derek helped him up and settled him into an arm chair.

“Explain,” Stiles said. 

Elyisa told him how they’d come to realize that they were overdue a new member of The Council. When they began looking into it, they found the Darach.

“So, coming back to save Derek from the shitstorm that has been his life, was a load of B.S.?”

“No.” Elysia was very firm. “What happened to the Hale Pack was predicated by the Darach as well. We do not know if she was after your power, though it would seem likely. By killing your mother, she precluded the normal cycle of your unveiling to The Council.”

“What is the normal cycle?” The Sheriff asked.

Lydia cleared her throat. “I can step in.” She turned to look at Stiles, pity in her eyes. “Generally, The Council knows well in advance of new Council Members. They then take the family into their confidence, and the child begins to take lessons. Over time, the child understands his vocation is with The Council, and he or she, take their place there, once they reach their age of magical maturity.”

“I’m not the Dalai Lama!” Stiles said, anger creeping over him. “You can’t make me go with you.”

“Stiles,” Lydia said, compassion in her voice. “Please, I’ve been researching since I saw what you could do. I was worried about you, about your magic. What Elysia is saying is true.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Your abilities are godlike. You would benefit from the help The Council can provide.”

Stiles felt betrayal curling in his chest, but he quickly tamped it down. Lydia never pulled any punches with him, not in high school, their short-term intimate relationship, or anytime afterward. He loved her and knew she loved him, in return. She would never say or do anything to purposely hurt him. 

For the first time since he’d met her, Elysia looked sad. “Stiles, you need to learn about your sacred magic, and how to handle it responsibly. Your destiny is with us.”

“My destiny,” he spat out the word. “Is with Derek!”

“We don’t want to take you by force,” she said. “But you’ve been using your magic in an irresponsible manner. You need guidance and training.”

Stiles stood up, looked around at everyone in the room. “I am not leaving Derek, my dad, Scott, who is like a brother, and everyone else in this building. I’m joining the law enforcement academy in six weeks.”

He walked toward the door but then turned to jab his finger at Elysia. “This is not my problem. You’re well aware of the pain already caused by our screwed-up timeline. So, figure something else out. I’m not going.” 

He didn’t slam the door on his way out, but it was a near thing.


	30. Talia

Talia ached for her son, watching his stiff cadence, as he went after his mate. She turned back and saw the sorrow on John’s face.

She addressed Elysia. “Is there another way?” She nodded toward the door. “Those two have been through so much pain in their young lives.” She also glanced over at the Sheriff. “John has also suffered. He lost his wife. Now you’re asking him to lose his son.”

“People suffer great losses,” Elysia replied. 

“Yes,” Talia said, her tone sharper now. “But this happened on your watch, by a magical being who shouldn’t have been able to accomplish what she did. Stiles had no idea of his gifts. He is well past the age that his training should have started. He has already built a life. It strains credulity to think that you cannot come up with an alternative solution.”

“Perhaps something less permanent?” Lydia interjected. “You’ve said time doesn’t operate for The Council in the same linear manner as it does here. Perhaps there is a way that Stiles can begin his path with you, and yet still remain with us, at least part of the time.”

Talia was impressed with Lydia. She’d found her researching tirelessly, and she and David had helped the young banshee by providing their combined knowledge of The Council to the effort. Talia could tell that Lydia had a deep love for Stiles and knew that losing him, would affect Lydia almost as deeply as it would Scott or Derek.

She watched now as Elysia conferred with Terra. 

Elysia nodded. “We will speak to The Council.” She looked around the room, carefully catching everyone’s eye. “It would be a more fruitful conversation if Stiles didn’t treat us as the enemy.” 

She held up her hand when Scott started to protest. “Please. I know it has been very few days since we first appeared. Terra continues to be a great help in reminding me of the differences in time.” She nodded to Lydia, “To your point.”

“We’ll speak to him,” Lydia assured. 

“Thank you for your willingness to consult with The Council,” Talia said. “I am confident we can come up with a viable solution that meets everyone’s needs.”

Elysia nodded. “Kate will remain subdued for the time being. With the threat out of the way, please let us know when you’d like the remainder of your family, and Erica and Boyd returned.”

“Thank you. We will.”

“Call us when you’re ready,” Elysia said. And they were gone.

“Do you think it’s possible?” The Sheriff asked, his voice anguished. “That there can be a compromise?”

“I’ll be pushing for it,” Talia said, confident in her abilities to negotiate. “The Council needs Stiles. As she said: a mage of that caliber is exceedingly rare. I believe we can work around this.”

“Once in 3,000 years?” Scott asked. “That is crazy.” 

“They have an extended lifespan,” Lydia said. “However, they do die. And if one is born only once in 3,000 years, then Stiles has the leverage to get them to work with him.” She reached over and took the Sheriff’s hand in her smaller one. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

“Should we tell the pack?” Scott asked. “They know something is up.”

“I would wait,” Talia said. “Let Stiles wrap his mind around what is happening. He and Derek probably need some time.” She smiled at Claudia. “Then he’ll need his parents, and you two.”

“Okay,” Lydia said. “Let’s go check on the pack. And call for takeout. Everyone is always hungry after a fight.” She looked around the room. “Sound good?”

Scott nodded and moved to Lydia where they began to discuss a menu.

Talia glanced away from the ashen pinched face of the Sheriff. While Claudia stood near him, she was definitely apart from him.

‘Will they be okay?’ David asked through their bond.

‘Will any of us?’ Talia responded. While she too had her concerns about Stiles ability to control his magic, she knew losing him permanently would be a devastating blow not only to her enlarged pack, but to her family, and most especially to her son. 

‘You can do this,” David assured. ‘You can make this work.’ He bridged the physical distance between them and placed his hands on her shoulders.

‘If I can’t I’m confident Lydia Martin can,’ Talia replied. And she was.


	31. Chapter 31

The room was completely decorated in black, including the carpet when Stiles threw the door open. He let out a harsh laugh, and Derek nearly ran into the back of him. “I didn’t even consciously do that.” He swung his arm wide. “Do you suppose the magic is now reading and translating my mind?”

“Well that is a frightening thought,” Derek said.

Stiles turned, shocked that Derek would make a joke just then, but then he laughed, launching himself into Derek’s arms. “I’m not leaving you.” Derek just enclosed him in his arms and buried his head in Stiles’ neck.

They stood that way, rocking minutely, for long minutes. Finally, Stiles drew back. “Let’s go to bed.” He backed away and began stripping off his clothes by hand. Derek eyed him, a question on his face.

“Maybe I have been relying on the magic too much,” Stiles admitted, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “Besides, I want to watch you strip.”

Derek quirked up the side of his mouth in a small smile, as he obliged, pulling his own long sleeve knit top up, and over his head. He leaned down, undid his laces, and toed off his boots, then removed his socks.

He reached for his belt, and Stiles closed the space between them. “No,” he said, voice husky. “That’s my job.” Stiles pulled, the belt tighter until it released and then carefully slid the belt out of the loops on Derek’s jeans. He dropped to his knees, and mouthed at his husband’s perfect abs, teasing Derek’s belly button, which Derek tried valiantly to keep his ticklishness from showing. Soothing the tender flesh, Stiles slid his tongue lower, down beneath the waistband of the denim, while he deftly unbuttoned Derek’s jeans, and slid the zipper down, applying pressure all the way down.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed. 

Stiles just smiled, moving his hands around the waistband to Derek’s hips, and then drew down his jeans and boxer briefs together, fingertips with just a touch of nails, skating down Derek’s legs. Again, Derek groaned. Stiles was pleased when Derek held onto his shoulders so that he could step out of his jeans.

Stiles looked up, awed by the beauty of Derek, his husband. He knew they’d have to talk about what had happened at some point, but for now? Later could just fuck itself. He leaned in, breathing on the tip of Derek’s already flushed, fully erect cock. Using his hand, he teased his way up the shaft, his finger tracing the heavy vein underneath, and then he sucked on the head.

He looked up, catching Derek looking down, and he used his tongue to lave the underside of Derek’s head.

“Stiles!” Derek cried out. “Please.” 

Stiles popped off Derek with an audible slurp. “Now, now,” he said, shifting, his own jeans now uncomfortable. “I want you to fuck me.”

“No,” Derek said, pulling Stiles up. “No. Please. I need you to fuck me. It will complete the mating bond.”

Surprised, Stiles stopped for a moment. “Earlier didn’t complete the bond? I could feel a difference.” As he talked, he kicked off his shoes and socks, then stripped out of his jeans and underwear.

“It strengthened earlier,” Derek said, reaching out, pulling Stiles to him, their bodies meeting torso to thigh. “But my wolf knows what I like.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was nuzzling Derek’s ear.

“I need you to take me, possess me,” Derek’s voice was quiet, sounding almost embarrassed. “Own me.”

A shiver went up Stiles' spine, and taking a risk, he reached down and bit Derek’s neck.

Derek howled, and Stiles felt the mating bond jump.

“Fuck yes,” Derek moaned. “Please.” He bucked under the onslaught, but Stiles stayed clamped on, a moan escaping his own mouth as he felt the blood rise under his mouth.

“Harder,” Derek begged.

Stiles complied until he tasted just a tinge of blood. When he pulled away, Derek pounced, licking the blood from his mouth. 

They did an awkward dance, mouths tangled until they hit the edge of the bed, and both fell as one. Stiles felt wild with passion. The fact that someone wanted to take him away from Derek, made him crazed, as he licked, nipped, and touched Derek everywhere he could. 

Derek too seemed to feel the frenzy, and Stiles felt overwhelmed with passion like he could feel the mingling of their desire, and it was almost too much. “The bond?” he managed to get out.

“Yes,” Derek replied, his head buried in Stiles' neck. “Can I bite you?”

Stiles threw his head back, in silent acquiescence, and then groaned when Derek bit down, Stiles felt fangs and had to grab the base of his cock to keep from coming right then.

Like Derek, he suddenly needed to taste the blood, and pulled his head to him, shivering as he kissed around the fangs.

“Danger kink,” Derek lisped.

“Got that right,” Stiles agreed.

When they came up for air, Stiles noticed that the bite he’d given Derek was surprisingly, still there. “Are you keeping it from healing?”

“No,” Derek said, trailing his fingers down Stiles’ cheek. “It’s a mating bite. It will heal silver.”

“Will mine?” Stiles reached up and touched the bite. 

Derek shrugged. “Don’t know. But it might. You’re a magical creature too.”

“I love you, Derek. I’m not leaving you.”

Growling, Derek covered his mouth, a filthy kiss, shutting him up. “Less talk, more lube,” he said when he pulled back.

“I can do that,” Stiles said, sitting up. He reached for the bedside stand and snagged lube from the drawer. “Preferences on how we do this?”  
Derek looked abashed and lowered his eyes.

“Ah,” Stiles said, “Up on your knees then.” He ran his hand down Derek’s torso. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

‘It’s my wolf,’ Derek said. Even in Stiles mind, he sounded embarrassed.

‘No, don’t do that,’ Stiles soothed. ‘He is part of you.’ 

Derek moved to his knees.

Moving behind him, Stiles took a moment to stare Derek presenting himself. He never thought he’d ever see this. Wasn’t really sure Derek would even want to bottom. 

Carefully, he parted Derek’s cheeks, and again, had to grab himself, as he watched Derek’s pucker clenching and relaxing. “You’re killing me,” he said, and then covered Derek’s back with his own body. Taking in the bite, which, as Derek had said, was healing, but leaving a silvery outline. He took a moment to feel proud that he did that. Only him. And he felt his spine stiffen: there was no fucking way he was leaving this man.

Kissing his way down Derek’s back, he used broad strokes following his mouth. As his hands slid down, cupping Derek’s ass, and then lower, to his thighs, Stiles licked a trail down the valley between Derek’s cheeks, and then onto his opening.

Derek keened and tried to buck, but Stiles used a bit of his magic, to keep him from moving. He breathed onto Derek’s pucker. “Mine. You’re mine.” 

He warmed the lube before sliding a finger around Derek’s entrance, carefully applying pressure until it yielded, and his finger slid in up to his knuckle.

“More,” Derek demanded, trying to push back. “Come on, Stiles. You know you don’t have to be gentle with me.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to hurt you,” Stiles returned hotly but continued the slide of his finger until it was buried all the way. “Besides, you know how long my fingers are. I want to be careful.”

“Yes, I do,” Derek said, his voice ragged. “I’m fantasized about them for years. Now more!”

“You are a very bossy bottom,” Stiles said, pulling back and then easing in a second finger. “Not that I’m surprised.” He wiggled his fingers, searching. 

When Derek reared back, almost knocking Stiles over, Stiles knew he’d found the prostate. “Stiles!”

Stiles stilled his fingers, ssshed Derek, and soothed him back down. “It won’t be long now.”

“Was that a bad pun?”

Stiles startled, and then laughed. “Actually, it wasn’t. Not intentionally, anyway.” He grinned. “How sexy is it that you get puns during sex?”

“Sexy,” Derek growled. “Now fuck me.”

Stiles gave another inspired push of his fingers, and then pulled out to add a third. Derek’s breathing was growing heavier, but all the noises he was making indicated he was more than alright.

Derek groaned when Stiles pulled out his fingers and lubed himself up. He could sympathize. He hated how empty he felt after being fingered. Kissing Derek’s hip, he sat up and lined himself up. He held his breath as he slid in, the head of his cock embraced in warm wet constricting heat.

“More,” Derek growled again, and Stiles could hear that his fangs were down.

After a few seconds, Stiles felt Derek relax, and Stiles could breathe again, and he slid all the way in. They both stilled, Stiles, covering Derek’s body, as he breathed heavily into Derek’s triskele between his shoulder blades.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “I swear I feel it through your tattoo.”

“Bond,” Derek said, his voice raspy. 

“I’m gonna move, okay?” Stiles asked, sitting back up, his eyes fluttering as he felt his cock shift inside Derek. “Oh my god,” he murmured.

“Finally,” Derek snarked.

Grabbing Derek’s hip, and ignoring his snark, Stiles began smoothly sliding out and in, his strokes longs, careful. 

“Harder,” Derek said, arching his back.

Stiles was more than happy to comply, picking up the pace. “My god, you’re beautiful,” he said. “You feel so good.”

“Help me up,” Derek said.

Stiles stopped and helped Derek sit up, moaning as that changed the angle completely. “Oh, fuck yes.” He kissed the back of Derek’s neck. Derek turned his head, catching Stiles’ mouth, and for a moment, he saw Derek’s eyes flash the red-purple color. 

Now Derek took over the rhythm, pumping his body up and down on Stiles’ cock until Stiles' eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Reaching around, he lubed his fingers via magic, and grabbed a hold of Derek’s cock, stripping it ruthlessly. “Come on!” rocking up himself, so that they were moving at a punishing speed. 

The noises Derek made told him he was nailing Derek’s prostate with every thrust and, just like before, he felt like his own prostate was being massaged as well. It felt like he was fucking, and being fucked, at the same time.

“I’m getting close,” Derek said through gritted teeth. 

Stiles nodded and then pushed against Derek as he came off a stroke, landing him back on his hands and knees. “Let’s finish this the way you wanted,” Stiles said by way of explanation. 

He’d kept his hand on Derek’s cock, and now feeling them, both reaching their peak, his strokes grew erratic, and he felt Derek’s hand join his on his cock.

“You are mine,” Stiles said, releasing Derek’s cock, to focus on pumping into Derek for all he was worth. “Come for me, now!” And with that, he slammed into Derek one last time, his orgasm overtaking him, as Derek too froze, orgasming simultaneously.

They stayed that way for long minutes until both of their breathing had slowed, and Stiles found himself wanting to drift off to sleep. Rousing himself, he nudged at Derek, letting him know before he slipped out. 

He magicked them clean, and then collapsed into a blissful heap, grunting as Derek pushed and pulled them around until they were facing each. “Your eyes are still red-purple.”

Derek harrumphed, and Stiles chuckled. Reaching down, he took Derek’s left hand into his own, then lifted it to his mouth, kissing the ring. “And I’m not leaving you.”


	32. Talia

Talia, and the other werewolves in the rec room froze, causing a hush to fall over the room, as Derek and Stiles entered the doorway.

Stiles offered a crooked smile and raised his hand in a half-wave. “Hi, guys.” He lifted his nose and sniffed. “I hope you left us some food.”

Talia reached out, feeling for the family bond, surprised but pleased that the boys were as calm as they were.

“It’s over there,” Lydia said, gesturing towards over a dozen partially empty takeout containers. Her smile was fragile.

Stiles clapped his hands together. “Great.” He looked up at Derek. “You hungry, babe?”

Derek nodded, and the spell broke, people going back to their conversations, though everyone seemed to have an eye on Stiles. Talia could almost taste the concern in the air.

Flashing her eyes, she looked and saw the much stronger, now fully solidified mating bond between the boys. She smiled and nodded to David who was waiting for her assessment. Turning her head, she smiled at Claudia who too seemed to be evaluating the bonds between them.

Claudia caught her eye and they both nodded, touching their husbands’ shoulders, before heading toward Derek and Stiles. After a round of hugs, some of them quite long, they stood apart from the rest of the room. 

“Where’s Melissa?” Stiles asked, looking over to where Scott, Malia, and Lydia stood to the side, waiting.

“She had to work,” the Sheriff said, his voice gruff. “She’ll be back later.” The sheriff pulled him back into another hug and kissed Stiles’ cheek. “She said to give you that.”

Stiles motioned to his packmates, and they moved in, hugging and scenting him as well. “I’m not leaving you guys,” he said, kissing into Lydia’s hair.

Lydia pulled back, her eyes suspiciously wet, and cleared her throat. “Talia and I have some ideas about that.” She smiled. “Why don’t you get some food, and we’ll go upstairs and discuss it?”

 

Upstairs in Derek’s loft, the four parents, Scott, Lydia, Malia, Derek and Stiles settled around the dining room table that Stiles had laid with some flair just that morning.

Talia shook her head. Could it really have only been this morning? It seemed outrageous, to think. She held back a sigh and forced herself to straighten her back. Once again, she marveled at how this group of people could have survived years of an onslaught like she and David had witnessed since her return. 

After letting the boys eat for a few minutes, Talia caught Lydia’s eye, and Lydia nodded, her smile still tremulous.

Talia began. “Stiles, we believe your worth to The Council provides you significant bargaining power. After you left, we laid down the bare bones of an argument that would allow you to remain here at least part of the time.”

Stiles opened his mouth as if to protest, but Derek stilled him with a hand on his arm. Closing his mouth, Stiles nodded for Talia to continue.

She laid out what they’d told The Council, along with Elysia’s response.

Lydia then picked up the thread, explaining what the group had discussed after The Council’s departure. 

Talia could see Stiles carefully checking reaction from his parents, Scott, and Derek.

Pain spiked between Stiles and Derek. This situation was patently unfair.

She and Claudia had spoken earlier, and Claudia had been almost beside herself, blaming herself for the magical abilities Stiles’ now possessed. Talia had just let her vent. 

The Sheriff had spent time with Lydia, Scott, Malia, and Melissa, sharing their grief, when it seemed his wife needed some time alone. They seemed comfortable together, and Talia assumed that group had become a support system for John during their absence, Claudia’s absence.

She also saw Allison sticking close to Jackson and Isaac, while Chris and Peter, which seemed an awkward alliance, remained upstairs, on guard against Kate getting free, even though Elysia had assured them there was no danger of such an occurrence.

Alan, Melissa, and Jordan, had left for work eventually.

The younger members of Scott’s pack either intermixed with Jackson and Isaac or formed their own loose network. 

“So, you think Stiles could be there part-time?” Derek asked, bring Talia back to the present.

“Maybe,” Lydia said.

“Why can’t I go with him?” Derek countered. “If he’d been identified as a child, his parents would have gone with him, right?”

“That is traditional,” Claudia said. “But it is also traditional that the parents live out their normal lifespan with The Council.”

The group was silent, letting that sink in. Talia felt fear in her own throat, as well as David’s kneejerk refusal to lose his son. It didn’t bear considering when they’d just lost Laura. 

She saw the misery of the potential loss written across the others’ faces, as well. While the pack was 15+ strong, Derek and Stiles were huge presences. Their losses would leave the pack shaken.

Stiles shoved his chair back from the table and moved to pacing in front of the windows. “And you guys think I need to go?”

The silence hung on far too long to be comfortable. 

Finally, the Sheriff pushed away from the table and crossed to his son. He pulled him into his arms, and Talia could smell a mixture of sorrow, anger, and fear wafting off him. Stiles clung to him, and she could smell his own sorrow and fear, mingling with his father’s. “I don’t think you have a choice, son,” the sheriff’s voice was muffled in his son’s shoulder.

“This sucks,” Scott said, his tone so morose, everyone turned to look at him. “What? It really does.”

Lydia smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “Yes, yes, it really does.”


	33. Chapter 33

Stiles moaned as the early morning light woke him up. He felt Derek move next to him, reaching for him, even though he was still asleep. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he stared at the curtains. Huh. The décor in the room was now blue. He sighed. Maybe everyone was right. They’d talked it round and round last night until Stiles wanted to scream. Lydia, his mom, and Talia going over again, how Elysia had stated time was different there. How maybe, they could use that to their advantage. 

They’d agreed to ‘invite’ The Council back today, to speak to them about his fate. There didn’t seem to be much point in putting it off.

Sighing, he carefully got out of bed, smooshing his pillow underneath Derek’s questing hand, hoping he would sleep as long as he could. Neither of them slept much. They’d cuddled together in the bed, silent, sharing what comfort they could.

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Couldn’t bear to think about losing this. Since they’d completed their mating bond, he knew he’d never be complete without Derek. It was definitely a ‘til death do us part’ thing for him. And he knew it was for Derek, as well.

Crossing to the French doors, he opened them up, stepping out on his own private beach. It sure as hell looked and smelled like the ocean. He walked out into the sand. It was cool beneath his bare feet, and he felt the hem of his pajama pants getting damp.

As he walked on the impossible beach, tasting the salt on his lips, he thought about the bargain he was planning to strike with The Council. He squared his shoulders. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he believed they would back up his ‘demands.’

 

Stiles slipped back into the bedroom, smiling to see Derek was still sleeping. Stripping out of his pajama pants, Stiles moved to the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet snick, and turned on the water in the walk-in shower. The tiles were cool under his feet, as he stood back, letting the spray warm.

As he was lathering up the soap, he felt Derek stir and slowly come to consciousness. A sense of pride filled Stiles chest, that Derek was comfortable enough to take his time awakening, instead of snapping to attention. A quiet question pinged through the bond, and he responded with his location.

Within a few minutes, Derek opened the door to the shower and blinked slowly, as steam wafted around him. “Morning.”

“Hey babe,” Stiles responded, just taking in his fill of the sight of his husband before him. If what they’d discussed last night ended up happening, Stiles was afraid, for him, it would be a long time before he saw Derek again.

“You okay?” Derek asked, picking up on Stiles melancholy.

“Sure,” Stiles said, beckoning to Derek. “Come here.”

Derek was out of his boxer briefs and in the shower, wrapped around Stiles before Stiles could even blink. “Morning’s getting better,” Derek rumbled, his mouth fastened softly around Stiles jugular.

Stiles chuckled, delighted by this side of Derek he’d never seen: playful, loving, needy. "Your werewolf speed is almost as fast as my magic," he murmured before losing himself in kisses, that he greedily stole. Reveling in their bodies being slotted together like they were made for each other. His heart swelled, and he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to go with The Council.

Pushing that thought out of his mind, Stiles tugged away from Derek and dropped to his knees. He magicked soap into his hand, and then quickly lathered it up. “I’m concerned about your health, Derek.” He placed open kisses on Derek’s hips, moving down the vee, scratching his hand lazily in the coarser hair leading down from Derek’s belly button.

“You are?” Derek’s voice was even scratchier than it had been when he’d first awoke.

“I am.” Stiles soaped up Derek’s cock and balls. Derek let out a small groan. “I want to make sure you’re fit and healthy. He gave a long appreciative look at Derek’s cock. “And I can attest to the ‘fit’ portion. He continued his sinuous stroking of Derek’s magnificent cock, twisting the head as he came up, using his other hand to reach back behind, and ghost over Derek’s perineum, and then lightly touched his entrance. "I just want to make sure you're clean and healthy."

Derek hissed and bucked, and Stiles sshhed him in soft encouraging tones. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Stiles magicked away the soap, and ran his tongue up the underside, adding pressure to the vein, and then wrapped his mouth around the head.

The groan Derek released was satisfying and Stiles hummed as he took Derek deeper into his mouth.

“Stiles –” Derek warned, his hips bucking. But Stiles just welcomed him, opening his throat deeper, one finger still playing with Derek’s pucker, still loose from last night’s activities.

‘I love you,’ Stiles sent through the bond. 

“I’m gonna –” Derek said. 

Stiles looked up, and caught Derek’s eyes, staring at him. 

“Fuck,” Derek breathed. “Your mouth. Oh god.”

‘I love you,’ Stiles said again. ‘Come on, husband. Come for me.’

Derek groaned once, threw his head back, and came. And while Stiles had felt a phantom mouth ghosting over his own cock, while he worked on Derek’s, he was shocked, when his own orgasm overtook him. 

Stiles milked Derek through the orgasm, and then carefully released him. He rose and took Derek, who was leaning heavily against the tile, into his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered into Derek’s hair. When steel arms enclosed him, he knew Derek understood.

 

Breakfast back in Derek’s loft was a somber affair. Scott, Talia, and Lydia had told everyone who had remained, which was most of the pack, what was happening. This morning they wandered in, grabbing a plate of food, and then walked by Stiles, running their hands over his shoulders, marking him, letting him know they were there.

When Melissa came in, Stiles stood, and she rushed into his arms. She pulled back, looking into his eyes. “Scott told me.” She kissed his cheek. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles felt his eyes fill, as he pulled her tight against him. “It’s okay.” He used his magic to push comfort to his other mom. “I’m just ascending.”

Melissa looked back, a quizzical look on her face. “Ascending?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh my god!” She looked over at Scott. “You boys used to drive me nuts watching reruns of that show.”  
Stiles laughed, delighted that she remembered.

“What show?’ Malia asked.

“Stargate?” Melissa asked, unsure.

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping his ‘p’. 

“You were so convinced those two guys were a couple.”

“What two guys?” The Sheriff asked, looking at Stiles. 

“Jack and Daniel,” Stiles responded, the ‘duh’ evident in his voice.

“O’Neill and Jackson?” The Sheriff’s asked, voice incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles said. “If they weren’t boning, they were dying to.”

“Oh my god,” the Sheriff said. He looked at Melissa. “This the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Melissa said. She looked back at Stiles and Scott. Scott looked bashful. Stiles most assuredly did not.

“I’m so lost,” Malia said, still looking at them like they’d lost their minds.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Jackson echoed, voice dry as dust.

It was a nice change in the energy in the room, and Stiles would take it. He hugged Melissa again and then offered her his chair. Scott grabbed her a plate and a cup of coffee.

As she sat, she asked, “What fresh hell is on the agenda today?”


	34. Chapter 34

Talia called The Council at 11 am.

Talia stood in front, directly behind her was Stiles, Derek, and Scott. Behind them, The Sheriff, Claudia, Melissa, and David. Flanking the parents were Chris, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Cora Jackson, and Malia.

“Greetings,” Talia said, bowing her head formally. “Thank you for coming today.”

Elysia also bowed her head. “Alpha Hale.”

“We are hoping you have some news from The Council regarding how we can effectively meet the needs of The Council, as well as that of my pack, but most especially, that of Stiles.”

Elysia looked over Talia’s shoulder and nodded to Stiles. “We have spoken to The Council.”

Talia nodded again, and moved aside, taking her place with David. 

Stiles stepped up. He felt a flutter of fear and wasn’t sure if it was his or Derek’s. But he also felt his spine stiffen. It was up to him to get back all that was lost to this group of people. Even if it meant bargaining with his own life. He bowed to Elysia.

“As you’ve probably realized, the ‘birth’ or ‘reaping’ of a new member of The Council, is a time of great celebration among us. We were troubled when we failed to find you when you were of an age when your inheritance should have been bestowed upon you.” She paused. “We have been looking for you ever since.”

Stiles quickly calculated how long they’d been searching. Almost half his life, given what they’d found about when magical inheritances normally manifested.

“After significant discussion, we can understand how difficult it would be for you to leave a life you’ve built here, something that wouldn’t have been an issue had things run its normal course.”

Stiles heard the ‘but’ coming.

“However,” Elysia continued. “You need to be trained. You need to understand our purpose, your purpose, in the universe.” 

She stepped forward, and Stiles had to force himself not to step back. He heard a low growl in Derek’s throat, and Stiles pushed a bit of reassurance through their bond.

“I owe you an apology, Stiles,” Elysia said.

Stiles heard a gasp from his mother and he couldn’t stop his own jaw from dropping.

“I was wrong to be so critical of what you’ve done, and how you’ve handled your magic. You had a very real threat in your midst, and you have never been trained on how to handle the magic now coursing through you.” She bowed her head this time. “Please forgive me.”

Stiles felt all the anger he had toward her completely wash away. His mouth was dry, but he choked out, “Of course.”

“Thank you.” She looked up, her eyes kinder than Stiles had seen them before. “How do we work to make this manageable for you, your husband, your family, and pack?”

Stiles swallowed hard, willing his body to make saliva so he could speak. “I concede that I need training. Our bedroom changed colors without my even thinking about it.” He chose not to mention the impossible beach and ocean outside the bedroom door.

Elysia nodded. “We can help with that.”

“I’ll need to go with you, won’t I?” 

“Yes,” Elysia confirmed. “For a time. Eventually, we will want you to consider moving to The Citadel with us. But that doesn’t have to happen anytime soon.”

“How long would I be gone?”

Elysia looked at Terra, and Terra spoke. “Time is a difficult concept to be able to explain,” she began. “However, we knew this would be a question, so we’ve done our best to approximate an answer.” She nodded to Tormand

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Based upon our estimates, you would be with us for an estimated five of your years.”

Everyone in the room drew in a breath, and Stiles heard his mother say ‘oh no!’.

“I cannot be gone for five years.” Stiles felt Derek’s anguish.

“No, no,” Tormand quickly said. “You would not be gone from here for five years. You would be returned to them within what would seem like a few days.”

Stiles mind raced, trying to understand what he was being told, and integrating it into what he already knew about The Council. “So,” he began. “To my family, it would only seem like a few days. But to me? At The Council?”

“Yes!” Tormand said, pleased that Stiles grasped it. “Yes, to you, it would seem more like five of your years.”

Stiles felt gut punched and put his arms around his waist in an effort to shield himself from further pain. Five years. 

Derek reached over, placing his arm around Stiles' shoulders, and Stiles just rolled into his embrace. He allowed himself a full thirty seconds of comfort, drawing strength from their bond, and the heat emanating from his body.

Then he pulled away, straightening his shoulders. “I understand,” he said. He tried to ignore the sounds of shock around him by the pack and his family.

“I’d like to stay here until after the first of the year. Many of the pack will be leaving after the holidays, and I’d like to be here until they go.”

Elysia nodded. 

“And there a few things I’d like to see happen in return for my willing cooperation.” His stomach churned. The only upside was that for them, it would be only a matter of days. His dad and Derek wouldn’t suffer: it would be like he’d gone on a trip or something. A long weekend, maybe. “I want Paige and her parents returned.”

He felt the shock from Derek, but he wouldn't let himself be deterred from his strategy. “I want all of the bitten wolves to have the option to be returned to human.” He heard the rustle of feet behind him.

He kept his eyes locked with Elysia and didn’t see any concern there. “I want Peter and Kate cured of their psychotic tendencies.” The room was deadly quiet now.

“But not Kate returned to human?” Elysia queried.

“I’d leave that to her,” Stiles said.

“Anything else?” Elysia asked.

“Laura is returned,” Stiles finished. With this pronouncement, Stiles felt the shock run through his bond with Derek, and somehow a bleed over from Cora and the Hales.

“But,” Elysia began.

“No buts,” Stiles cut her off. “I know what you can do…what we can do. You can bring her back if you want to.”

Elysia met his stare. She was quiet and Stiles held his breath. “So can you,” she finally said. 

“What?” Stiles asked, blinking, trying to process what she'd just revealed. 

“You can do all of those things, you’ve requested we do,” she said.

“Dear God,” he heard his father say.

But Stiles stood up straighter. “Then let’s get started.”


	35. Chapter 35

Moving day dawned cool and wet, and Stiles chuckled to himself. Of course, it wouldn’t be sunny and bright. There would be complaining about the chill as people moved in, but Laura and Cora were in the main house kitchen, readying coffee and hot chocolate to be doled out to the new inhabitants to “Hale House II”.

Stiles had worked with David who had designed large add-ons so that everyone had a spot there on the Hale Homestead. He’d designed the addition to sit behind the current house, connecting out the back in two wings, tucked up into what was now the “U” shape of the house was a large patio and pool. The left wing was for the McCall pack, the right for Derek’s pack, including the Stilinskis. While each apartment had their own private kitchens, they’d created one huge kitchen for large pack get-togethers, as well as roomy recreational spaces for movie and game nights. 

Stiles got a kick out of watching Allison and Scott currently feeling each other out, to see if they could make a go of it. While Scott was now four years older than Allison, Scott had always had an innocence about him, that made him seem younger than his years. Scott hadn’t seen anyone seriously since Kira left after their sophomore year in high school. He’d said it was too hard, and he was too focused on the pack and school. But Stiles knew he’d never gotten over Allison.

The big shock had been when Chris and Melissa, started openly dating after Chris let everyone know he’d quietly filed divorce papers, which The Council had mysteriously expedited. Apparently, those two had been a couple for a while. While Stiles had always wanted his dad and Melissa to get together, he was now so grateful that hadn’t happened. Melissa would forever be a second mom to Stiles, and he was glad to see she’d found someone who would be a life partner to her and who understood the supernatural. 

All in all, Talia Hale had turned out to be very cool. She’d taken it in stride her pack suddenly tripling in size, working well with the Scott and Derek now standing beneath her in the hierarchy. She was working to educate Scott’s and Derek’s packs on how traditional packs worked. She’d taken a leave from the university to strengthen the bonds in her new packs, as well as to get to know her two grown children. 

Stiles was watching the new pack dynamics from the sidelines. He wanted to give the packs time to coalesce around their new leadership teams, without him being directly involved.

Speaking of time, for Stiles, it was growing short. In five days, he would be leaving Beacon Hills to join The Council. It was mind-boggling to be told he might be with The Council for the equivalent of 5 years, yet upon his return, it would seem like only days had passed. 

The idea of leaving their home, leaving Derek, so soon after mating, didn’t sit well with him. And in the cover of night, when Stiles was buried deep inside him, Derek had confessed that he was afraid. Derek was afraid being of The Council would change Stiles. Five years was a long time, and he worried that Stiles might regret that they’d mated. Stiles had stilled, chest hollowed out. He stared at Derek and tried to speak, but no words would come. He’d slipped out of Derek and then lay on top of him, mouthing the mating mark he’d left on Derek’s neck. “No, no, no…” 

Derek rolled over, pulling Stiles tight, and Stiles felt his sorrow through their bond. “I never wanted to hold you back, Stiles.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles felt tears prick his eyes. “Never. Derek, never. You. You are everything to me.”

They’d laid that way for a long time, emotions and magic flowing between them, until they’d finally fallen asleep.

Stiles had no idea what it might feel like to experience ‘no time’ and yet be gone the equivalent of 5 years. He was certainly intimidated, and he worked hard to regulate his heartbeat. For even the slightest hint of being off-kilter in a compound of werewolves meant having someone always asking about his state of mind.

Over the last two weeks, he’d found himself seeking out Bobby, the human Hale. Talia had brought Bobby back right after Peter’s wife, Emily, and their baby daughter Celeste. 

Bobby was a fun kid. He was half smartass, half self-deprecating. He’d seemingly taken it all in stride and probably was most bothered that Derek and Cora were now adults. Stiles liked that Bobby couldn’t read his feelings, and he wanted to keep an eye on the teen-aged Hale. He had some insight into how self-deprecating smart-assery could be used as a shield to hide what someone was really feeling. He’d also seen Talia keeping a sharp eye on Bobby, so he suspected she was doing the same.

Erica and Boyd had rejoined the group with a minimum of fuss, still deferring to Derek, even though he told them he wasn’t an Alpha anymore. Of course, when he’d flashed his eyes and they turned their now standard purple-red, it hadn’t been too convincing. 

Like Allison, Boyd and Erica were relieved when his mom told them she’d homeschool them together, so they could all get their high school degree. Bobby had also been eager to avoid high school, and Stiles thought they’d all end up being good friends. 

Chris had taken Kate to a prison of sorts, for rogue hunters in Maine. While she’d been cured of her psychopathic tendencies, as well as lycanthropy, Stiles had never seen such a broken person, and he hoped he never did again. Still, he’d taken the precaution of warding Derek, Scott and himself with drops of Kate’s blood. It would warn them if she ever stepped foot into the state of California again.

Cora had sent word to her pack that she’d be moving to Beacon Hills. Stiles had transported her back to South America where she’d packed up, and then transported her to the new house, into an apartment she was now sharing with Laura.

The greatest difference was, not unsurprisingly, in Peter. After his psychopathy had been ‘healed’ he was like a different person. He’d personally apologized to Lydia so often she’d finally told him she forgave him. He’d done the same with everyone, and to see Peter Hale sincere and broken up about what he’d done was not something Stiles had ever believed he’d see.

He had asked to speak to Derek and they’d taken off into the woods. When they’d returned, both looked ten years younger, and Stiles knew Derek had forgiven his uncle.

Peter had actually broken down when Emily and Celeste were returned. They’d spent several days in their suite at the Hale House, only emerging for food, and then returning to their rooms. 

Talia had taken Celeste, giving the couple some privacy, and added the baby to the nursery with the twins. Not that Celeste was ever put down for very long. There was always someone there wanting to hold her. 

Kit and Kelsie were equally spoiled, running the entire household, as they played with “all the new people” who often fought over the blonde-haired spitfires.

“Why are they blonde?” Malia asked.

“We were all blonde when we were young,” Cora said. 

“I was too,” Malia said. “Huh.”

Not long after that conversation had come another bombshell from Talia about Malia’s being Peter’s biological daughter. After Talia had informed the immediate family, Stiles overheard Peter telling Derek that her only comment had been, “So, I’m a Hale? Huh.” 

Like most things, it didn’t seem to faze her, though she did seem excited to have so many new cousins. Stiles noticed how engaged she was with the twins, always the last one to take them when they were cranky, wearing them out until they were almost asleep on their feet. Stiles smiled. Maybe children, like car engines, were less complicated than most people.

Malia wasn’t the only one taken with the twins. Stiles had never seen Derek with children before. It was eye opening and often drove him to have tears in his eyes as he watched Derek play with them. When Stiles caught Derek rocking Kit to sleep one day he decided he didn’t care if he had to magic himself up a womb: he was giving Derek Hale babies.

Laura was quiet, upon her return. The Council provided her a download of what had happened since she’d been gone. When they were done, her eyes had been full of tears, and she’d rushed to hug Derek. “Why didn’t you tell me about Kate?” she’d managed to ask through broken sobs. “I was your Alpha. I should have helped you.”

Stiles had turned away, as Talia and David surrounded their two children. Cora had hung back, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw David beckon her over. Silent tears fell down Stiles’ face, as he felt he anguish rolling through the family, specifically through Derek. He knew they’d have a good deal to talk about, and he edged toward the door.

“Stiles,” Laura’s voice stopped him as his hand reached for the knob of the door. “Please.” 

The family broke apart, Stiles turned, unashamed of his tears. “You don’t know how long I’ve wished for you to all be together again.” His chest heaved. 

“But you –” Laura said, her voice stronger. She’d already expressed shock that Stiles would have to leave them.

“Whatever happens to me,” Stiles had managed to get out, but his voice cracked. “It will have been worth it to see Derek surrounded by his family.”

Even now, Stiles felt emotion welling up in his throat again, and he forced it down, focusing instead on the wolves carrying in furniture like they were grocery sacks.

“Hey,” Laura said, softly bumping Stiles' shoulder. She handed over a steaming mug. “It’s half coffee, half hot chocolate, half Bailey’s Irish Cream.”

Stiles laughed and looked down at her. “You know that’s too many halves, right?”

She shrugged then took a sip of her own concoction. “Only the best for my favorite brother.”

“Don’t tell Derek. It will hurt his feelings.”

“Don’t worry, Stiles,” she said, hugging him close. “I’ll keep him safe and sane while you’re gone.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I know you will, sister o’mine. I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for hanging in there with this story. I loved this universe and I hope you enjoyed it as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I welcome your concrit and feedback.


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